Rush
by Lady Drama
Summary: "The gods envy us because we are mortal, because any moment might be our last together. Everything is more beautiful because we are doomed. We will never be here again, in this time and place." TMR/HG
1. In a Rush

**Rush**

_Fiction Rated_: T

_Pairing:_ Tom/Hermione

_Warnings_: AU after OoTP. I'll do my best to follow the memories that Dumbledore showed Harry in HPB.

Slight OOCness possible although I will try to keep Tom in character. But this is my version of Tom, its how I thought of him while reading JK Rowling's books, so it may differ from your idea of him. I totally refuse to believe that anyone can just be born _totally_ evil so if you're looking for a mega-dark Voldemort style Tom Riddle, press the back button right now. On the other hand, he will definitely not be a pitiful moron either, that much I can guarantee.

_Disclaimer_: I do not own any of the characters used in this story except any OCs that may appear in the later chapters. Harry Potter and all related franchise are owned by JK Rowling and I can't claim them because of that pesky little thing called copyright, ever heard of it?

_This disclaimer applies to all the chapters_

* * *

A strong gust of wind blew into the hospital wing, making its only inhabitant shiver. Madam Pomfrey made a little clucking noise and went to shut the window. Before she could reach there however, another sharp burst of wind entered the room and knocking the numbers off some of the cupboards, as well as upsetting several potions. She looked faintly irritated and shut the window with a flick of her wand. With another wave she made the potions slide back into their vials, the cupboard doors shut and the numbers hang themselves up again. She stowed her wand back in her pocket and thought no more about the incident.

* * *

"Madam Pomfrey?" called Hermione.

"Coming. Just wait a minute," replied the nurse from within her office.

She glanced at her watch. 10 minutes to reach the station before the Hogwarts Express left. Hermione was in the hospital wing to take her last dose of the antidote to the curse that one of the Death Eaters had hit her with during their recent battle in the Ministry of Magic. She checked her watch again. 9 minutes.

"Madam Pomfrey? If you could just tell me which cupboard it's in, I can take the potion myself."

"Cupboard #6, fourth shelf from the bottom, the silver potion."

The cupboards in the hospital wing had huge gold numbers hanging in front of them. Cupboard #6 was second from the window, its large gold six swaying a little in the mild breeze.

It was the smallest of all the cupboards, made of beautiful dark wood. She tried to open it but it wouldn't budge. "_Alohomora,_" she said with a light flick of her wand. The cupboard still didn't open. She bit her lip. On one hand, she was getting late; on the other, she hated the thought of asking Madam Pomfrey to help her after she had assured her that she was capable of taking her potion by herself. She forced herself to concentrate.

Blackwood. The cupboard was made of blackwood, which meant that the charm that would probably open it would be...

"_Cresscia Mora_."

Hermione tried the door again and this time it opened. Pleased, she looked at the fourth shelf for her potion. She didn't find it. Glancing at the door of Madam Pomfrey's office, which was still tightly shut, she checked again. There! Hidden behind a violet solution was a small flask with a silvery gray liquid.

She picked it up. As she attempted to uncork it, Hermione noticed a message written on the bottle in flowing writing. It appeared to have been etched on the bottle in pure silver.

"Ssorca miws ot naeco na si ti, hguorht dehsur eb ot revir a ton si emit."

Hermione shrugged. She didn't recognize the language but it was probably an old one that was no longer used. Hogwarts probably had a lot of such ancient potions. After all most potions did not spoil with keeping and ones such as dark magic antidotes were hardly used a lot, even in these troubled times. She tugged the cork a little harder.

Ah! It was finally open.

The smell which reached her was totally unexpected. It smelt of apple and mint, an unusual combination but one that Hermione immediately liked anyway. It was definitely unique and oddly pleasant.

Without further ado, she gulped it down.

"There, that's done," she thought with satisfaction. "Now the effects of that curse have been completely eradicated."

She glanced at her watch again and gave a small shriek. 4 minutes!

* * *

Hermione was positively fuming as she sat down in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express next to Lee Jordan, the twins' best friend at Hogwarts, who was planning to join them in their joke shop enterprise soon.

"That moron!"

Jordan looked up from the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes list that he had been trying to complete before they Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

"Who?"

"Malfoy and his musclemen! Why can't those apes just leave Harry alone? I went over to talk to Ernie and saw them try to hex Harry when he was on his way back from the bathroom!"

"Which animal?"

"What?"

"I assume that _you_ wouldn't have left _them_ alone either after you saw that little scene. So which animals do they resemble now? Porcupines?"

She grinned mischievously and said "Slugs!"

Lee looked out of the window to his left and remarked "We're almost at the station"

"Well, I better get changed then" said Hermione getting up.

"Goodbye! See you at Wheezes!" said Lee, stashing the list away in his trunk.

Hermione nodded and walked over to the prefect's compartment. Although any of the prefects could use it, most of them preferred to sit with their friends before everyone got separated for the summer. It was far easier to change in here than in the girl's washroom, where idiots like Lavender Brown often practically knocked her over in their desperation to achieve perfectly blended lip color.

As she took off her prefect's badge and pulled the Gryffindor colors off her robes with a simple incantation, Hermione felt a little dizzy. Thinking that it was probably some mild motion sickness, she sat down, breathing deeply.

Less than 5 seconds later, she was half sprawled over the seat, praying that someone would quickly find her. Her breath came in short, painful gasps. Her whole body felt like it was on fire. As she stared at the wall next to her through a haze of pain, Hermione noticed something. Her hair, it was…shrinking?

She quickly ran through _Common Magical Maladies _in her head and couldn't find a single disease with shrinking hair among the symptoms.

She moaned as another shot of pain spread through her body.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey finally emerged from her office and gave a small shriek of horror. That ridiculous window was open again and the powerful wind had sent all the potions flying around the room. She waved her wand in a series of complicated flicks and things re-arranged themselves. She noticed a small gold number lying on the floor next to her and bent to pick it up. She placed it in front of the second cupboard from the window and firmly shut the window, mentally swearing to have the infuriating window shifted somewhere else by Albus or Filius.

The number 9 swung gently in front of the blackwood cupboard where Madam Pomfrey had placed it.

* * *

Hermione screamed as unimaginable pain shot through her, starting from her scalp. Her whole body felt like it was being ripped apart. Then, slowly, unexpectedly, the pain receded. For a second, she felt incredibly happy, as if she was being joined together by some unseen force. Her breathing settled and she tried to sit up using her elbows.

"May I help you?"

* * *

AN: Hello!

I'm incredibly sorry about the number of page breaks in this chapter but I needed them to make the story clearer.

Please review! I'm still uncertain about whether or not to go through with this fanfiction and need feedback to help me decide.


	2. Rushing through Time

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_AN: Thanks to my first reviewers – Marissa, Eileen, sweet-tang-honney, PoisonLady, youmustcontinue! (Nice name! LOL) ClaireReno and harrypotterfan! You people totally made my day!_

_I apologize in advance for all historical inaccuracies related to 1940s London._

_

* * *

_

"May I help you?"

Hermione shook her head to clear off the lingering effects of her recent….well, she wasn't really sure what to call it. Seizure? Spasm? Stroke? It could have been anything. She would have to check some books when she got home.

She looked up at the boy who had offered her assistance. He was tall, with blonde hair and green eyes. His expression was slightly concerned but still detached.

"No thanks, I'm fine. I should go now."

He nodded and turned to leave when another boy came in. This one was dark, with heavy lidded hazel eyes and an air of overwhelming self importance. Hermione instantly disliked him. Her low opinion of him was confirmed when he didn't even bother to look at her and instead said to the first boy "We're getting late, Abaraxes."

Abaraxes nodded and the two of them left the compartment. Hermione checked her jeans' back pocket to make sure that her wand was still there and ran towards the compartment in which she had left her trunk. As she hurried through the train, she noticed that all the students had already left the train. The only exceptions were two giggling Ravenclaw girls that she didn't recognize.

She finally reached her compartment and looked around with a frown.

"That's odd," thought Hermione "I was sure I had left my trunk here. Oh well, Ron or Harry probably took it down to the station for me."

But still, she couldn't shake off a strange feeling that was coming over her. It wasn't really like either of her two best friends to be that considerate. It wasn't that they were unhelpful or selfish, they simply wouldn't have thought of doing something like taking her trunk down for her.

She jumped off the train onto the Platform 9 ¾. As usual the smoke billowing from the Hogwarts Express made it difficult to see the people standing on the station.

There! Hermione thought she caught a flash of red through the mist. She hurried towards it and then stopped short. It was a plump, redheaded Hufflepuff, who liked like she was in third year. Definitely not one of the Weasleys although her features looked oddly familiar.

She looked around her helplessly, wondering how to find her friends on the crowded platform. Finally Hermione decided to wait for them across the barrier, where at least there wasn't any smoke to add to the challenge. As she crossed the barrier, she heard a Muggle woman exclaim "The Underground! Preposterous! It an absolutely ridiculous plan and mark my words those fools will regret it"

Once more that strange feeling washed over her. Something just wasn't right here. But what?

As Hermione stepped out onto King's Cross Station her senses were on high alert. She noticed that some of the trains looked newer, their compartments gleaming in the sunlight. There were others that she had never even seen before. Perhaps there was some kind of exhibition of old trains or some such thing going on?

She took a step forward and collided with a girl.

"Sorry," said Hermione.

To her surprise, the girl didn't brush aside her apology and rush past her. Instead she smiled and said "It's alright. I wasn't watching my step either."

But the thing that left Hermione utterly astonished wasn't the girl's politeness, it was her dress.

She was wearing a skirt and a blouse, a pretty ordinary ensemble, but what made hers unique was the fact that it looked like something right out of one of those fancy coffee table books on vintage fashions.

Hermione thought that the girl was probably just into the Retro look but the second she turned around, her jaw dropped.

Everyone was dressed like the girl. Their dresses, hats and boots made them look like aliens to her. What the hell was going on here?

"Excuse me," called Hermione to the girl's retreating back "Is there a show going on here today?"

The girl gave a puzzled frown "A show? With the war most people barely have enough to get by. Who has the money left to pay to watch a show?"

War? Was this girl a witch after all? But the part about financial troubles didn't make any sense. As far as Hermione knew Gringotts was still safe so why would there be any lack of money?

Looking around nervously, Hermione decided to go outright and just ask her. Even if she wasn't a witch, the worst she could do was laugh.

"Err…Are you a witch?"

The girl looked at her in almost comical disbelief. Then she walked away muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like "…knew she was insane the minute she mentioned my dress…"

More confused than ever, Hermione looked around her, desperately hoping for some clue that would help her solve this strange mystery. Just then, a man crumpled up a newspaper mumbling "Get's worse day by day," and threw it in the dustbin.

Hermione looked at the headlines. War? What in the name of Merlin's boxers was going on here?

She suddenly caught sight of the date on the newspaper and froze. 1941.

"Okay, calm down, Hermione," she told herself. "This is probably just one of Fred and George's elaborate pranks."

She walked out of King's Cross Station in a daze, reassuring herself that her smiling parents and laughing friends would be waiting for her in the car park.

The car park was filled with classic cars she couldn't even recognize. But she vaguely remembered seeing some of them at a car show her father had taken her to when she was a small child.

Stunned she went on, out into the city. Hermione looked at London as she had never known it. Strange, puzzling, confusing. She got a few odd looks from people for her tight jeans and shirt but she didn't notice. Her mind was numb.

Finally she reached a deserted alley. The posters on the walls announced wartime rationing. There were newspapers on the ground, scattered and torn. She picked them up one by one. 1941. 1941. 1941…

Hermione sat down, not caring that the ground was dirtying her clothes. She had somehow just managed to travel half a century back in time. That took some time to sink in and when it finally did, she couldn't stay numb anymore. She started crying, sobbing her heart out.

Once that was done, Hermione felt much better. Now she could make a plan. The first thing to do was to contact someone she knew and trusted. Dumbledore? Yes, he was perfect. But the question was how? She didn't have either money or an owl. The Leaky Cauldron might be the perfect place to borrow an owl but how to get there? Hermione for all her cleverness had no sense of direction.

She looked up at the sky. The sun was setting. Even if she did have a vague idea of where The Leaky Cauldron was, there was no way she could get there before nightfall. The first thing to do was find shelter for the night. She checked the headlines again for inspiration. "Looks like Hitler is at the height of his power…"

She forced herself to concentrate, thinking about an old line she had once read in a survival guide Work with what you have

She had a terrible situation and a lost girl. There was just so much to work with.

Something clicked in her brain and she had an idea. War! This was the time in which refugees were fleeing from their home countries onto foriegn shores in search of new homes! She could pretend to be one of them. But would a shelter for the homeless just take her in? Or would they ask for some kind of identification? She needed some place where she would be accepted without too many questions asked.

Once more the metaphorical bulb lit over her head. An orphanage! Since she was 16, surely she was young enough to get into one? And with the war, there must be enough orphans for her to blend with.

Satisfied with her plan, she decided to put it into action. When she had walked out of King's Cross she hadn't really paid attention to her surroundings. Now she had no clue where she was in this totally unfamiliar city. But still, Hermione was undeterred.

She walked on, figuring that she would surely come across at least one orphanage if she did. Surely there were plenty of them in a big metropolitan city?

But soon, her 10 minute walk stretched on to 15, then 20. By the time 40 minutes had gone by Hermione was panting and her legs ached.

There! She saw a signboard, half hidden in the darkness. "The Young Ones Orphanage" There were directions written underneath. The signboard encouraged people to donate generously.

Well, thought Hermione wryly, she was going to donate herself so that could probably be counted as donating 'generously'

She walked on and crossed the street, then turned left. The orphanage was to her right. She pressed the doorbell and waited nervously.

"Yes?" A maid answered.

"Um…Could I please speak to whoever's in charge here?"

The maid's eyes narrowed "If you're sellin' somethin' we don't need nothing."

Refraining from pointing out the double negative, Hermione put on her most winning smile and said "Please? I really need to speak to her. I promise I'm not here to sell anything." Except a lot of unbelievable lies, she added silently.

The maid reluctantly let her enter and took her to a shabbily furnished room.

"Wait here."

Hermione nodded. A few minutes later a sharp featured woman entered. Hermione's heart sank. This woman might not be too easy to fool.

"I'm Mrs. Cole. You wanted to speak to me?"

"You are in charge here?"

The woman merely nodded.

"Then could you please…that is….I meant…"

"Yes?"

"Could you please take me in?" she blurted out.

Hermione was horrified. How could she have just blurted that out? Now she would have to sleep out on the streets. She felt like crying just thinking about it.

Unaware that Mrs. Cole was scrutinizing her closely, she stared at the wall. She could feel her eyes starting to moisten but she was determined not to cry.

Mrs. Cole observed the proud set of the girl's shoulders. Obviously she had been through a lot recently and wasn't ready to tell anyone about it yet. But still, she had courage and hadn't given up.

"Alright," said Mrs. Cole abruptly.

The girl looked up, eyes wide with disbelief "You'll take me?"

"As it happens, one of our boys took ill earlier today. You can have his space. You'll have to share the room with a boy but that can't be helped and I'll shift you as soon as possible to the girl's side. Not that that'll likely be anytime this week, so don't get your hopes up. Get your baggage and I'll show you your room."

Hermione blushed. In her hurry to get off the streets, she had forgotten how strange her lack of baggage must make her look.

"I haven't any."

With a resigned look in her eyes, Mrs. Cole said "We'll have to fit you out then I suppose. How they expect me to manage with these funds…"

It was lucky for Hermione that Mrs. Cole was too busy muttering to herself to take in her expression. Her mixture of relief and shock at having her lies so easily accepted showed clearly on her face.

"Merlin," thought Hermione, "Things must be really bad if she's actually used to people barging in, demanding to be taken in, without any clothes or money."

Mrs. Cole led her through a passage and said "We'll sort everything out in the morning. What's your name?"

Oh dear! What should she say? Using her real name would be too risky; she didn't want to end up changing anything in time.

"Ann," she said after a long pause "Ann Harrison."

Mrs. Cole looked a little suspicious but let the matter drop. She knocked on a door to her right and said "Tom! You have a new roommate!"

She pushed the door open to reveal a small room, with two beds and a cupboard. Over to the left, there was a small bathroom.

"This is one of the few rooms in the orphanage with a bathroom, so count yourself as lucky. Originally, this was just a landing but we converted it into a bedroom after the stairway leading to a small room above collapsed and we didn't have any funds to spare for its repair. Fortunately for you though, you won't have to race everyone to the toilet first thing every morning."

Hermione nodded absently, she was busy looking around the room.

"And this is your roommate, Tom." Mrs. Cole's voice had taken on a strange note of reluctance.

"Pleased to meet you," said a smooth, slightly bored voice.

Hermione looked up to the darkest blue eyes she had ever seen.

____

* * *

_AN: Congrats to those people who figured out that the words on the flask were written backwards!_

**VERY IMPORTANT!**

**In CoS, it was RON and HARRY who went down to the Chamber, not Hermione. So Hermione doesn't know what Tom looks like. Of course she knows that Lord Voldemort's real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle but she isn't going to hang around suspecting EVERY guy named Tom she meets is a Dark Lord is she? **


	3. Memories

Hermione woke up with a start, dazed and slightly alarmed. Her unfamiliar surroundings did nothing to reassure her and her hand instinctively went to her pocket to check for her wand. Its absence escalated her alarm to panic. But the panic was kept at bay by a trivial but more puzzling question: Why was she wearing a white cotton nightgown?

She sat up on her bed and shook her head groggily to clear it. Hermione looked around the room, at the almost bare blue walls, the white curtains and the clock….the clock!

Suddenly the events of the previous day came back to her in a rush. She almost gasped and ran her hands through her hair, trying to calm herself down. Unfortunately all she succeeded in doing was creating more tangles in her already bushy brown hair.

Hermione took a deep breath. The time she had spent sleeping had refreshed her mind and she could now take better stock of her surroundings. The room she was in was small with two doors, one leading to the corridor through which she had entered; the other leading to what she presumed was the bathroom. The walls were painted a rather dull shade of light blue and bare, apart from a picture hanging near the doorway. It depicted a ship being tossed around in a violent sea, in the middle of a storm. The picture was old and faded but something about the colors used and the scene portrayed made it unforgettable.

To the left of Hermione's bed were a window and another bed underneath it. Through the window she could see a starry night outside and a single street light. Their glow illuminated the whole room.

"Impressed by the grandeur?"

Hermione almost jumped out the bed. The voice was deep and rich, but sarcastic, almost derisive.

In the dim light, Hermione could see the silhouette of a boy against the window frame. He moved a little and for a second, his aristocratic features were clearly visible.

"Who're you?"

"Your insignificant roommate, Tom."

Someone's got an inferiority complex, thought Hermione. But she banished the thought immediately. It was obvious from his body language, which was confident and relaxed that he was merely mocking her. But then, why did he seem so bitter?

"Oh yes, I remember Mrs. Cole telling me about you," she replied rather lamely.

He merely nodded and went back to the book he had been reading.

"Why don't you switch on the lights?" asked Hermione curiously.

"I don't need them."

"Of course you do! The lighting in this room is far too dim for reading! What are you reading anyway?"

"It's none of your business."

Tom seemed very touchy and quite strange to Hermione. Why was he reading a book in the middle of the night, using nothing more than a streetlight outside for illumination?

She pushed off her blankets and clambered out of bed. "How long was I out?"

"Out?" asked Tom, giving her a strange look.

"Asleep."

"A few hours."

Hermione looked at him irritably. Would it hurt him to talk a little more? The last time she had woken up, it had been to the hustle and bustle of the Gryffindor girl's dormitory, with Parvati and Lavender arguing about the rival merits of Coral Blue and Purple Passion nail paint next to her.

She sighed and gave herself a little mental shake. There would be enough time to think about nail paint once she was back in her own world, her own time.

Hermione cast one last dark look at the boy quietly reading behind her and went to the bathroom. When she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she let out a peal of laughter, her first since she had woken up in the 1940s. She resembled the street urchin that she had pretended to be so closely that it was ironic. She had lost her rubber band and her hair was hanging around her face, looking like nothing as much as an Amazonian rainforest, her eyes had hints of dark circles under them and her face was pale enough to pass as the Grey Lady's.

Well, there wasn't really that much she could do about the dark circles or her complexion since fate hadn't been kind enough to provide her with a make up kit on this journey but she could pull her hair back in some semblance of order. A grey comb was lying near the sink and she picked it up and yanked it through her hair as hard as she could. After a few minutes and several involuntary tears, her curls were cascading softly down her back and she smiled proudly into the mirror. Hermione looked down at her dress and sighed. It was comfortable enough but it made her feel like someone's grandmother. Which she would be, she reminded herself, if she didn't hurry up and find a way out of here.

Feeling that plotting her way to help would be much easier under the cover of her probably still warm blanket, she hurried out of the bathroom.

Tom was still sitting in a corner, reading. Hermione tilted her neck a little to catch a glimpse of the book's title.

"You shouldn't spy on people, Harrison."

Hermione looked up at his face, his disdainful expression startling her. "What do you mean?"

"It is usually considered impolite to intrude upon other people's privacy."

Years of friendship with Ron made it easy for Hermione to shrug off his insult. "No, I meant why did you call me Harrison?"

For the first time that night, he seemed puzzled "It's your name isn't it?"

Hermione blushed. Of all the stupid blunders! "Err…it is…but – but you didn't pronounce it right."

"Then how do you pronounce it?"

"Forget it," said Hermione, wishing she could take her silly excuse back.

"I insist. How else will I address you?" he asked, with a gleam in his eyes. Damn, Tom knew that she was lying and he was clearly enjoying teasing her, though he still looked a little confused.

"You won't," she said as haughtily as she could manage and slipped back into bed, praying that he wouldn't continue the conversation.

Hermione spent the next few hours trying to come up with a way to return to her own time but her attempts were futile. She yawned. Too much had happen in the past 24 hours and it was all still too fresh, too vivid in her memories. Harry's misery at losing his godfather, Ginny's attempt to lighten up the atmosphere with bright comments and entertaining Hogwarts news, Fred and George's identical, mischievous grins… at that moment she would have been glad to see even that brainless git, Malfoy, just to convince herself that the past 15 years hadn't been merely a dream.

It felt absolutely surreal and for a few minutes Hermione wasn't sure if she could believe even her own memories. But the laughter, the friendship, the companionship, the warmth, the sense of _belonging_ that she had found at Hogwarts felt too real to be false.

She needed help, that much was clear. There was no way for her to do this on her own. Hermione was smart enough to acknowledge the fact that she needed help with this. Since she wasn't even sure of exactly how she'd ended up here, she had no idea whether to look for an antidote, counter curse or some sort of magical object. The only person with sufficient skill and knowledge to help her now was Professor Dumbledore. But how could she contact him?

She fell asleep, still thinking about her plans, not noticing a pair of curious blue eyes watching her.

* * *

"_How else will I address you?"_

"_You won't."_

Tom almost chuckled. His unexpected roommate would prove to be mildly interesting at least. Billy Stubbs, her predecessor had annoyed Tom to breaking point with his continuous screeching and whining about the tiniest things. He couldn't understand more than a word of what Tom said and was as utterly uninterested in anything beyond his food as he was dim. He had never liked Tom and made it very clearly that he thought Tom was quite the 'little freak' when they were both younger. At first Tom had been disappointed that he wouldn't have a new friend like he'd hoped for when he'd been told about his roommate but as Billy's tales of him spread through the orphanage, he was angry. The more upset Tom got, the more bad luck seemed to plague Billy. He would often trip over thin air, his clothes suddenly wouldn't fit him, sometimes small objects would fall on top of him and so on.

Then two weeks before Tom's eleventh birthday, Tom and Billy had their worst argument ever. It ended with a fistfight in which some of the other children, including Billy's best friend Dennis Bishop had joined in and resulted in a bloody nose and severe scolding for Tom.

He was furious. He hadn't even started the fight! His eyes were burning with sternly repressed tears as he went to sleep that night. The next day Billy's rabbit was found hanging from the rafters, clearly dead. Billy had immediately blamed Tom but even Mrs. Cole admitted that there was no way an eleven year old boy could have climbed up there.

The rumours surrounding him grew and the other children, who had always been cautious around him, now ignored him completely.

Over the next week Tom became even colder and more aloof than he had previously been. He was determined to become independent and strong enough to fend for himself so that he could leave the orphanage as soon as possible. By the time Dumbledore arrived to tell him about Hogwarts, he had become the impassive individual whom the professor recollected in his memories.

"Time to wake up!"

Tom groggily sat up in his bed, unused to being shaken awake. Who in this world would dare…

"You're late," said Hermione reprovingly.

"It's none of your business."

She stiffened immediately. "Certainly, your _graciousness_. My most sincere apologies for attempting to be friendly."

Tom watched her walk out of the room, mystified. Friendly? What in the world was she being friendly to him for?

Hermione had decided that the first thing she needed was a way to navigate through the unfamiliar London streets of the 1940s. Since a map would be far too expensive for her to afford at the moment, she needed someone who knew the streets well. Wondering who she could ask without arousing suspicion, she bumped into someone who was coming down the same corridor she was walking up.

"Sorry."

"It's alright."

The person she had bumped into was a petite girl of about nineteen. She wore a rather ragged apron and a spotless white cap was holding her soft brown hair back.

"You new here?" she asked kindly.

Hermione nodded.

"Breakfast's down the hall," she said and started to walk away.

"Wait! What's your name?"

The girl appeared puzzled "I ain't one of the children here."

"I realized that. But you must surely have a name, right?"

"Amy."

An idea suddenly popped up in Hermione's head.

"Do you do the grocery shopping around here, Amy?"

The maid seemed bewildered by Hermione's choice of topic. Nevertheless, she nodded.

"Me 'n' Clar alternate. This is my month. I'll be out a few days after."

"Do you think you could take me with you?"

Understanding dawned on the maid's face and she patted Hermione's arm and said comfortingly "Now don't you be getting any ideas about paying the lot of us back or anything. You ain't the first, you know. Lotsa them take silly ideas about bein' burdens and wantin' to help out from time to time. You're a good girl, I'm sure 'n' we're all happy to have ya. Now go eat 'n' have fun with the others."

"No, no" said Hermone, frustrated, "I meant…"

"If its some fresh air ya need, ya'll get plenty of it day after. Annual picnic comin' up, it'll be a right blast fer all."

Amy smiled and walked away, leaving an aggravated Hermione behind.

"Harrison?"

Hermione turned to see Tom standing behind her. Was that a flicker of sympathy in his eyes? She thought that she must have imagined it for it was gone a second later. His tone was as cool as usual.

"Mrs. Cole is looking for you."

He turned away and went to the kitchens for breakfast, without giving her any time to reply.

Of all the insufferable, arrogant, high handed... He almost made Draco Malfoy look sweet!

Hermione's stomach grumbled and she reluctantly followed Tom to the kitchens for breakfast.

* * *

A HUGE thank you to my reviewers! You people rock my world :)

So thanks **ClaireReno, Valentino Riddle, Crumplette (**_While most fanfictions claim that Abraxas had grey eyes, I deliberately made them green here to give him some more personality of his own, rather than making him a Lucius/Draco clone_**), TheRandomArtist, ****Nephrite (**_Your wish has been granted! I updated as soon as I could!_**), ToniaReno (**_Thank your cousin from my end for spreading the word about my story! I hope you enjoyed reading about my perspective of Riddle!_**), UrallyDon'tWannaKnow and Anonymous **


	4. Anticipation

**Chapter 4 – Anticipation **

_Dear Ron and Harry,_

_The more time I spend in the 1940s, the more disconnected I feel – from you two, my friends, our time, everything. It's like the first 15 years of my life were nothing more than a dream. When I try to recollect the times that we spent together, they seem more like the fragments of someone else's memory than my own experiences. _

_Sorry for all the big words and confusion in that paragraph, Ron. _

_Although it does reflect my state of mind perfectly. With your huge family, magic has always surrounded you, Ron. I guess it would seem weird to you to not believe in it. But for people like me, who didn't know a thing about it until they received their letters, it has always been far more complicated. To me, magic always felt like something I had to grab with both my hands and hold on to tight lest it disappear._

_That sounded fairly ridiculous, coming from someone who's been at Hogwarts for 5 years._

_But I guess you can relate to it in a way, can't you Harry? Your relatives didn't tell you much either, did they?_

_My uncertainty is only fuelled by the fact that everything I have encountered here so far has been unsettlingly Muggle. I didn't realize how much Hogwarts had changed my perspective of the world till I came here._

_Came here. Makes it sound like I'm on vacation here doesn't it? 'Dragged By Unknown Force' would be more appropriate, I guess._

_Sorry for all that. End of ranting. I promise, I'll try not to treat you to further rants. There's no need to roll your eyes, Ron! Okay, okay, I hope there'll be no more. There, happy? Stop grinning!_

_When I woke up today morning, the first thing I saw was an owl perched on the tree outside. It was pretty early but the sun was up and London was bustling with people already (thankfully, the people of this generation do not waste their mornings snoring like you two.) _

_Back to the owl, (Don't you dare utter a word Ronald Weasley, I said I would try not to rant, I didn't guarantee it!) it was a fairly ordinary barn owl but it reminded me of the one the Daily Prophet used to send me my copy of the newspaper (What did I say about eye rolling, Harry?) So I came up with the idea of writing letters to both of you while I'm here, even though I know perfectly well that I have no way of sending them to you._

_Silly, right?_

_You once said that trying to imagine a young Dumbledore would be like trying to imagine a stupid Hermione. Well, with my luck, I'll see both in this time and I can lend you my notes._

_Sarcasm apart, this place feels scarily unreal. The shock didn't really set in for the first day but last night, I was terrified. In 1940, I was just some random girl who no one had ever heard of. Not even my own parents (who haven't even been born yet) or my grandparents (who are toddlers incapable of speech). Just the kind of thoughts that cheer a girl up, right?_

_There are more mysteries than I care to count waiting to be solved right now. I prefer to focus on the least of them, at least till I'm stronger – My roommate Tom._

_I'm not sure how to describe him. Infuriating would be a good word, or maybe just plain old annoying? _

_Tom is just so mysterious! He wasn't in the room when I woke up today and he wasn't there last night either. If it wasn't for his slightly messed up bed, I wouldn't have known he'd been in at all. He hasn't spoken to me even once since yesterday morning when I tried to act friendly and he got mad at me._

_And let's not forget our charming first encounter in which we did little more than trade insults._

_If it was a normal boy like Ron I would have assumed that he sneaked out to meet a girlfriend (yes Ron, I have noticed your growing attraction for my roommate Lavender. Best of luck on that one, she'll giggle your ears off)_

_But Tom seems….different. When Mrs. Cole practically forced him to have dinner with the rest of us he was outwardly polite but his eyes were impatient. He ate little and almost ran to the door, not even caring for the whispers that broke out, like they always do in his presence. _

_The other kids here treat him like some kind of disease. They seem scared of him and some of them refuse to so much as talk about him. But still, there are plenty of rumors surrounding him. These are mostly ridiculous fantasies invented by children with overactive imaginations and too much time on their hands. Alien abduction, yeah right, that's bloody likely._

_You must be startled by my uncharacteristic profanity. But the more I see of this place, the more I begin to think that Tom is just a shy, misunderstood person._

_Maybe befriending him and solving this mystery, the simplest of all the questions that plague me, will help me clear my mind…_

_Love,_

_Hermione_

* * *

Tom Riddle emerged from his room at noon the next day, tired but triumphant. After a long period of extensive research, he had finally found his family. His last surviving relatives, Marvolo and Morfin Gaunt, had been living in Little Hangleton for decades according to the edition of the British Census that he had quietly picked up from a public library on his way to the orphanage from King's Cross Station.

It was true that the book was an extremely old copy and parts of it may prove to be factually incorrect. However, it was still the best lead he had found so far and he was determined to pursue it.

He had skipped a large part of his dinner the night before, unable to conceal his desire to continue perusing the book long enough to swallow more than a few mouthfuls. He had eaten a bare minimum to satisfy Mrs. Cole and rushed back to the quiet corner on the top floor that he thought of as his own to continue his search. Now that it was finally over, he found that he was famished.

The kitchen was deserted when he entered it. The maids were taking their annual day off before the picnic and most of the other children were outside, basking in the summer sun's glow.

"You break your fast late."

Tom turned, startled. His new roommate was curled up on a wooden chair, reading a novel. She kept her book aside and looked at him as she spoke.

'_You break your fast late?' _thought Hermione, incredulously. _How much stupider could she get? He must think her a complete dolt!_

"I was busy," he replied warily.

"Doing what?" questioned Hermione, her insatiable curiousity provoked.

The look he sent her was so withering that she blushed.

"What?" she demanded. "I was merely curious."

"It is not exactly an endearing character trait."

"Why would I want to endear myself to you?"

Tom looked at her in mild surprise. As far as he knew, being liked and accepted by others was one of the primary concerns of most people of his acquaintance. He pondered over it for a moment and then decided to dismiss the matter; she was simply an unusual girl. It was obvious to him that there was something she was attempting to conceal. The clues were easy enough to read: her strange attire, her accent, the unfamiliar words she unconsciously let slip when she was agitated, her odd inability to remember what she claimed was her name. Still, it wasn't his mystery to solve – she was merely a Muggle girl and whatever she was hiding could hold no significance for him.

"Where did Mrs. Cole keep the leftovers?"

Hermione smiled at him and said, "I told her that there was no need to save them so she gave them to Amy's little neice."

Tom's shoulders stiffened. "And I suppose my existence slipped out of your mind? Or did you just not notice that I was absent for breakfast today?"

"You're wrong so often, it's astonishing Tom," said Hermione gently teasing, trying to break the tense atmosphere between them.

"Then was it deliberate?"

"Of course it was."

He shot her a disgusted look and would have walked out of the room had she not gotten up and grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving. He didn't say a word, merely looked at her with a chilly expression. However Hermione merely said, "Please wait here for a moment."

Before he could edge in another word, she picked up the loaf of bread lying on a table in the corner, cut two slices and put them in the old toaster. As the machine slowly heated up she added, "I didn't think you'd like the cold leftovers much so I was waiting here to put something together for you."

"There was no need."

Hermione stared at Tom, shocked. There was no trace, either of shyness or any other emotion in his voice. His face was emotionless as he spoke.

Tom grabbed the toast that had sprung out of the machine and left the room.

* * *

Hermione tossed and turned in her bed that night, pondering over Tom's words. She knew that it was silly, that she had far bigger and more important matters to think about, but for reasons she herself didn't fully understand, she just couldn't let go. Tom Riddle was a puzzle, an intriguing challenge that Hermione felt compelled to solve.

In the two days that she had known him, Hermione had formed her own estimate of his character, only to have it shattered in their next encounter. Their meetings so far had been brief and filled with tension but still, something about him had captured her interest and held it there.

Hermione pulled her sheets up higher and tried to lose herself in sleep.

* * *

Tom sat on his bed, watching the sun rise. The plethora of colors that the sun colored the sky with, the streaks of red, orange and yellow shimmering against the blue, scarcely registered in his mind. Absently, he tugged the cuffs of his shirt.

Tom had spent most of his life searching for his parents. When he had entered Hogwarts, he had headed over to the school library directly after the feast to look through old school records for any mention of his father. Unfortunately, he got lost in the corridors of moving armor and changing staircases. He decided to head back to the Slytherin Common Room and with a bit of help from the Grey Lady, managed to get there with all his limbs intact.

In the beginning he struggled with the basics of magic, like every other first year did. However all that changed two weeks after his arrival at Hogwarts. Thus far, the older students had mostly ignored him, as he was a lowly Muggleborn first year and unworthy of their notice. However that day, Humphrey Belcher, a Slytherin sixth year was in a bad mood. This tit-bit was quickly passed around the lower forms and they avoided him all through the day as it was well known in Slytherin that Humphrey picked on those younger than him in order to vent his own frustrations. Since Tom had not made many friends yet, he was the only first year blissfully unaware of this circumstance. He had passed Belcher in a deserted corridor that evening and politely nodded to his senior. The next thing he knew, Belcher had grabbed the front of his robes and was beating him black and blue. The first year boy used the only spell he had fully mastered and transfigured a splinter of wood into a needle. He poked Belcher with it and the older boy's grip slackened for a moment. Tom ran, eager to put as much distance between them as possible. To his embarrassment, he had found himself in a girl's toilet, with a bespectacled female ghost watching him curiously.

To his surprise and delight, he had discovered the greatest of Salazar Slytherin's secrets hidden in that unlikely place. Slytherin had been a man of great wisdom and cunning and with the aid of the heirlooms he had hidden away for the use of his future generations, Tom began to explore the higher levels of magic. By the end of the month he excelled in all his classes and received top marks. Unlike other boys his age, who would have whooped in delight and abandoned their textbooks at this stage, Tom continued working hard. Throughout his first year, he divided his time between the Chamber of Secrets and the Hogwarts library. The time he spent in the library researching his lost family may not have yielded the results he so badly wanted but it did provide him with knowledge of the Wizarding World that rivaled that of most purebloods.

Finally, after endless hours spent in musty libraries, both Muggle and magical, Tom had found his relatives. The knowledge filled him with a warm glow and a sense of nervous anticipation. He stifled these emotion with his usual cold mask, but they bubbled under the surface, making it impossible for him to sleep at night.

Since it was impossible for a boy of his modest means to travel to Little Hangleton alone, he had ensured that Mrs. Cole find out all about the benefits of taking the orphans to Great Hangleton for their annual picnic.

Tom glanced down at the clock and let out an annoyed exclamation. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he had forgotten all about the time and was now running late. Did his ridiculously meddlesome roommate have to pick today of all days to accept his word and leave him alone? Her bed was made and she had gone downstairs for breakfast already.

Tom ripped his sheets out and messily made his bed, unable to deny the exhilaration flowing through his veins. He was finally going to meet his family!

* * *

Mrs. Cole sat back in her office and poured herself some gin. While she did not ordinarily drink this early in the day, today she made an exception. On every single occasion when Tom Riddle had been part of the annual picnic something unusual had happened.

A shiver ran down her spine. Something big was going to happen today. She wasn't sure whether it would be good or bad but she knew that it would change the world.

At least she had the gin that the strange gentleman who had come to offer young Riddle a place in his school had bought with him. The man himself may have been an odd creature but the gin was of excellent quality and soothed her.

A quote she had read as a child flashed through her mind:

"_The moment lasts a second_

_The legend lives forever"_

* * *

**AN:** First, I'm so sorry for the long time that you had to wait for this chapter!

Second, thanks to **ClaireReno, ToniaReno, Nephrite, Anonymous, UreallyDon'tWannaKnow, Golden Aura, sweet-tang-honey, Voldy gone moldy and seriana14 **for their encouraging reviews!

Do you think that I should continue with the story in the next chapter or write a bit about Tom's years at Hogwarts?


	5. Day of the Picnic

**Chapter Five: Day of the Picnic**

The morning of the picnic finally arrived, bringing a cloudy sky and promise of a thunderstorm with it. Mrs. Cole shot a worried glance at the sky as she hustled the orphans into the two buses that one of their sponsors had been kind enough to arrange. She flipped through the morning paper, looking for the weatherman's report.

Just then, a quarrel broke out between two of the children in a group standing next to her.

"Give it back, John!" screamed a little girl.

"Or what, Maria?" taunted a young boy, holding a doll teasingly aloft.

Maria stood up on her toes in an attempt to retrieve her precious toy, blinking back angry tears. Mrs. Cole sighed and moved forward to intervene. But before she could do so a soft, firm voice behind her said, "John, give that back. Maria, stop crying and go sit with your friends."

Mrs. Cole turned around, surprised. The peacemaker was none other than the new girl who had arrived at the orphanage a few days ago.

John stuck his tongue out and said, "You can't tell me what to do!"

Maria, too, squared her shoulders and said, "I don't need your help! I can take care of myself!"

Hermione watched the two children with a pitying look in her eyes. They were precocious, but it was circumstance that had toughened them up. Their situation in life was not one where they could afford to become dependent on anyone else. Once they grew up, they would be on their own with no adult to turn to for guidance or help.

She boarded the bus and nearly groaned when she saw the pathetic state of the interiors. The seats were stained with what look like centuries of tobacco ash and sweat. A musty smell hung in the air. Hermione quickly grabbed one of the window seats and opened the window next to her. She stuck her face out and took in a deep breath of fresh air.

During the 1940s London's atmosphere was not coated with the thick black smog that would eventually surround it. As she inhaled deeply, Hermione tried to identify the different scents that reached her.

There was a faint flowery smell, from the plants near the orphanage's entrance. Mrs. Cole's perfume. Some exhaust fumes from the other bus that was already full and leaving. A strong burst of wind whipped her hair over her face. She quickly withdrew her head from the window and settled into her seat.

"I would like to sit here"

She looked up to find Tom Riddle standing there, watching her with a strange expression on his face.

"Thanks for asking," she said sarcastically. Inwardly she seethed; the great Tom Riddle didn't ask for permission, he simply declared the seat was his and sat down. Hermione knew that she was being childish but after yesterday's fiasco, she wanted to hit something when she so much as heard his name.

"You tried to help those children" said Tom, still staring.

"Yeah, so?"

"Why?"

Now it was Hermione's turn to stare. "What do you mean, why? It was the obvious thing to do."

"Why?" he persisted.

"Because what that boy was doing was wrong. And someone has got to teach him that that kind of behavior just isn't right"

"Why not? How can you judge what's right and wrong?" asked Tom. His eyes burned bright with curiousity. Something about his expression stopped her from telling him to stop bothering her and instead made her think about his question.

"Well," she said slowly, "Some things are right. Things that are good, that make your heart feel light. At the same time, there are things that are bad, that make you feel dark, heavy and weighed down. That's what my parents used to say."

He was quiet for a while, mulling over her words.

Hermione watched him curiously. There was something different about Tom today, something that made him more _open_ than usual. It was a side of him that she had never seen before and it intrigued her.

"Is it your birthday today?" she ventured.

He pulled himself out of his reverie with a scowl and replied curtly, "No"

"You seem to be in a good mood"

A hint of amusement flashed in his eyes. "Since when are scowls considered cheerful?"

"No, not that," said Hermione, feeling a little foolish, "I meant when you were asking all those questions. You usually don't talk that much. So I wondered if there was something special about today."

As soon as she uttered those words, Hermione knew that she had said something wrong. The gleam in his eyes disappeared as they hardened and he said coolly, "Maybe we shouldn't sit together since it seems that my conversation bothers you."

She watched, dismayed at the destruction of the first real progress she had made with him, as he picked a bag up. "Wait!"

Tom looked up, his face set into its usual expressionless mask. His ice blue eyes met her brown ones as Hermione desperately tried to think of something to say.

"There are no other seats left!"

"There is always the front seat with the driver and Mrs. Cole."

Finally, Hermione gave up and slumped back in her seat with a resigned sigh.

"Here," said Tom, handing her the bag, which she now noticed was her own rather than his.

"What?" asked Hermione, confused.

"As I said, I'm sure there's space for you up front."

Colour flooded her cheeks and she cried "You – you…. I thought you meant to switch seats!"

He raised an eyebrow and said, with a touch of faint hauteur, "Whatever gave you to the impression that you were so very important as to force me to leave?"

With great difficulty, Hermione resisted the childish urge to stick her tongue out at him and turned away, facing the window.

Tom kept the bag away with and sat down again. The next few hours passed peacefully as Tom was busy with thoughts of what lay ahead and Hermione was busy fuming.

However the journey was a long one. Tom had spent the last night wide awake and exhaustion eventually overcame him. He fell asleep.

Hermione, on the other hand, was edging closer to despair with every passing second. The unfamiliar scenery, antique cars, even the clothes that the pedestrians were wearing had reminded her once again that she was in an unfamiliar time with no support, friends or family to help her. She tried in vain to think of a plan. The truth was so ludicrous; she doubted that anyone would believe her. Professor Dumbledore was her only beacon of hope but how would she ever contact him? She had no idea what Dumbledore did during the summer when Hogwarts was not in session. Not that it would be of any particular help if Hogwarts was currently full of students. Then she would have to somehow acquire an Invisibility Cloak to avoid damaging the timeline. For all she knew she may have already altered it in some way. The lecture Professor McGonagall had given her in her third year about the disastrous consequences of altering the past rang through her head.

The bus jerked violently as the driver rashly rushed through a speed bump. Hermione started as the flow of her thoughts was broken. She forced herself to look away from the window and turned around to face Tom.

Tom was fast asleep; half sprawled over the seat in an awkward position. For the first time, Hermione noticed how unnaturally pale his face seemed, how there were faint creases on his forehead, even when he was asleep. At the same time, there was something about him that seemed to simply forbid pity. "He's strong," thought Hermione, "strong enough to take on the whole world." She shook her head at the absurdity of the direction her thoughts had taken.

Suddenly, piercing cobalt eyes opened, with a hint of annoyance passing through them as he registered the face staring intently at him. "Didn't anyone tell you it's rude to stare?"

Hermione's face flushed red again but she didn't turn as she didn't want to look out of the window anymore; it was just too depressing.

The silence between them stretched on. Finally, Hermione couldn't take more of it and blurted "I just thought you looked worried even when you were sleeping"

Once again, he froze. "It is considered exceedingly rude to make personal remarks to strangers" he stated tonelessly.

"We're hardly strangers" argued Hermione.

In response, Tom raised an eyebrow. He opened a bottle of water and took a swig of its contents.

"Well, we've been sleeping together for the past two days!"

Tom almost choked. "I beg your pardon?"

Realising the double meaning behind what she had just said, Hermione went on to make the already bad worse. "What – I mean – I meant was, we're roommates and so…"

Just then Mrs. Cole stood up and announced, "We're there! Make sure you carry all your belongings with you!"

Hermione hastily gathered her bag and quickly made her way forward, avoiding Tom's gaze. Unfortunately for her, he was a lot quicker than she was and caught up with her easily. He stepped up behind her in the queue of children waiting to disembark.

She sneaked a peek up at his face and was surprised to see that his earlier nonchalance had completely disappeared. He looked tense, as if preparing for a difficult task that lay ahead.

"Tom? Are you alright?" asked Hermione softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He started; his usual indifferent façade was back in place as he replied, "I'm fine"

Hermione nodded uncertainly. Tom stared pointedly at her hand, which was still resting on his shoulder and she dropped it back to her side with a light blush.

A loud voice interrupted them, "What's the hold up? Move!"

The voice belonged to a short boy with sandy hair who was standing behind them. He glared at them. "What? Incapable of moving now, freak?"

Tom shot him a look of withering scorn and Hermione quickly got off the bus, eager to prevent a quarrel.

"Gather around now and listen carefully," began Mrs. Cole, once they had all disembarked, "You are allowed to wander around Great Hangleton for the next 2 hours after which we will meet at that tea shop," she pointed towards a small, red brick building, "for lunch. Do not wander alone. In case anyone gets sick or injured, return to the tea shop immediately. Amy, Clar or I will be present there and will give you first aid. Try not to be late for lunch since your friend's are likely to gulp it all down before you get there." This earned her a few laughs from the children. Mrs. Cole smiled and said, "Off you go!"

Hermione glanced around her nervously. Everyone else had formed small groups and they were taking off to explore the area. She went up to a group of girls who were standing in a corner, giggling and chatting.

"Excuse me?" she said timidly, "Can I join your group? I'm new and I don't really know too many people yet."

A freckled red head smiled amicably at her while a petite blonde girl nodded. However the third member of the group, a tall girl who looked like their leader questioned her suspiciously. "Aren't you Tom's new roommate?"

Hermione nodded and the tall girl scowled. "Are you sure?" she asked the petite girl, who was now looking uncertain. However the girl with cropped red hair spoke up for her, "She didn't choose her roommate," turning to Hermione she said, "You can come with us if you want to. I'm Samantha Roberts"

"Ann Harrison" said Hermione.

"Martha" muttered the blonde girl. She seemed rather awed by the others and stared at the ground as she spoke.

"And this is Beth, short for Elizabeth," said Samantha hurriedly before Beth could open her mouth. Beth looked unhappy about Hermione's presence in their group but shook hands with her anyway. Samantha looked relieved as she said, "We were planning to visit a small thrift shop on the other side of the town. It's run by a girl who used to live at the orphanage with us."

"The other side?"

"She told us that her shop was in Little Hangleton. From what we've heard it's just past this wood"

"We have to go through a forest?" asked Hermione nervously, thinking of the Forbidden Forest.

Samantha laughed. "I see you're imagining massive grizzlies and roaring lions. Don't worry, this isn't a tropical forest, it's just a small wood. If you get lost, you can keep walking in any one direction for half an hour and get out of it"

"But if you're scared of forests or something, we'll understand" said Beth, looking at her hopefully.

Hermione shook her head and the four girls set off for Little Hangleton. It soon became clear that Saamantha and Beth were best friends and they walked ahead, talking and laughing loudly. Martha hung behind them, looking at the two of them rather wistfully. Hermione noticed this and attempted to start a conversation with her.

"So how old are you, Martha?" she asked brightly.

"Thirteen" mumbled Martha, staring at the ground.

"I see…" she trailed off, wondering what to say next.

"What – What about you?" questioned Martha shyly.

"I'll be turning sixteen this year. It's a pleasant day isn't it?"

After a few more minutes of strained small talk, the younger girl began to open up and soon the two of them were chatting about everything from why Mr. Cole had never visited the orphanage where his wife worked to the disgusting food they were served.

Suddenly, Hermione caught a glimpse of a man moving in the shadows. From the corner of her eye, she carefully assessed him. She could see that he was tall but it was difficult to tell much more than that. Then, for a brief moment he stepped into the bright morning sunlight and she saw his face clearly.

It was Tom.

It was just typical of him, she thought furiously, to ignore Mrs. Cole's warning and stroll in the forest alone.

She gave a loud exclamation and everyone turned to look at her.

"I'm so careless! I forgot some of my things in the bus"

"Oh no," said Martha, concerned, "do you want us to return and help you look for them?"

"Go ahead; I'll catch up with you. We aren't too far away from the bus yet. I'll just run there and be back before you know it."

"You do that," said Beth, clearly pleased by this turn of events.

Samantha shrugged and said, "If that's what you want to do. Meet us at the shop, we'll wait for you."

"Just come back along this route and then ask anyone in the village for Nel's Store. It's not a very big place, so they'll probably be able to tell you." added Martha.

"Catch up soon!" said Hermione, running in the opposite direction.

"Why would she want to 'catch' us?" asked Beth, watching her jog away.

* * *

**AN: Thanks to the fabulous people who reviewed: **

_ClaireReno, imaginexthat, ToniaReno, Anonymous, Nephrite, UreallyDon'tWannaKnow and sweet-tang-honney_

**Review please! I would love to know what you thought of this chapter? Deserves to be put in a golden frame or thrown in a Dumpster? Tell me!**

**-Liz**


	6. Confrontation

_Chapter 6_

"Tom! Wait up!"

He stopped at once and turned. As Hermione approached, Tom looked at her with an inscrutable expression on his face.

"Are you always this annoyingly persistent?" he asked mildly.

She ignored him. "You heard what Mrs. Cole said. We can't wander around on our own."

"Even if I didn't hear her speech, it's clear that you gave the utmost attention judging by the way you're quoting her." he said, amusement creeping into his eyes again.

"Why do you keep mocking me?" she snapped.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" he retaliated.

A strange, almost exhilarating feeling was creeping over Hermione. She stood next to Tom, facing him. He was taller than she was and she had to incline her head slightly to look up at him.

She hated insecure people who put others down just to boost their own egos. But Tom never put anyone down, even people who truly deserved it, like some of the children from the orphanage who treated him badly simply because the rest of their peers did so. He just watched them with coolly amused eyes and was utterly indifferent to their opinions of him. He seemed to regard her the same way and she resented it. She felt like she was back in her first ever Potions class, where Professor Snape referred to their entire class as 'a bunch of dunderheads' and she had felt an intense desire to prove that she was intelligent, that she was worth respect.

Tom's treatment of her was just as high handed as her former teacher's had been. While she was no longer a first year anxious to prove herself, she still resented it. The need to prove her worth had always been a part of Hermione's personality. Its effects had been both good and bad, for while her parents wished that she would just accept herself the way she was, her constant efforts to improve had led her to heights that complacency wouldn't have achieved.

"You can't wander around this place alone. I won't let you." said Hermione firmly.

"How do you plan to stop me?" questioned Tom, with the faintest hint of a smile playing around his lips. But his expression was no longer amused and the look in his eyes made her take an involuntary step back. "Leave." he said abruptly, turning around and walking away.

"Wait!"

Tom showed no sign of having heard her. His inexplicably rude behavior angered Hermione and all her calm rationality disappeared beneath a streak of the stubbornness and hot temper that her house was famous for.

She spun around with an angry huff and walked away from the route that Tom was taking. Then, she slowly retraced her steps and doubled back midway to follow him. Hermione was careful to maintain a reasonable distance between the two of them. Thrice, she accidently stepped on a twig and froze, holding her breath. But Tom didn't notice these minor disruptions. He seemed preoccupied and as they neared the edge of the woods, he began to walk a little slower.

Suddenly, he halted, still not quite out of the woods. Hermione watched, puzzled, as he turned left. The trees on that side of the wood appeared to be older. They were taller than the others in the area and their canopy cast shadows on the earth below. As they proceeded further into the cool shadows, Hermione noticed a small, well worn dirt track swerving to the right. Apparently, this was the path that Tom intended to take. After a few minutes he stopped again and checked his watch.

As Hermione's eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw an old building almost hidden between the trees. It had obviously seen better days; moss and lichen competed for space on the walls and the roof's once beautiful tiles had fallen off. The rafters were visible and nettles surrounded the building, just about reaching the filthy windows. The only indication that someone lived there was an old fashioned lamp lying near the door, casting a warm glow over its surroundings. A cloud of dust rose as Tom used a silver knocker to tap on the door. He wrinkled his nose in disgust and brushed his sleeves.

A light wind blew through the clearing and the shadows on the door danced. For a moment, the silver knocker caught the sun's rays and was clearly visible. Hermione almost gasped – the knocker was shaped like a silver snake, with emeralds for eyes and a diamond encrusted tail but its magnificence was greatly diminished by the layers of dust that covered it. The gust of wind passed and the knocker rested in its usual position once again, looking little more than an average mud coated piece of metal, its momentary splendor once again concealed.

Hermione examined the house with renewed interest. "Why would someone who possesses such a valuable object live in abject poverty?" she wondered. As her eyes swept over the house once again, she noticed weeds growing in the garden, weak rafters that probably wouldn't hold up much longer and extraordinarily grimy walls but absolutely nothing that answered her question.

Tom tapped the knocker again, clearly impatient. Finally he gave up and just pushed the door open instead. As it creaked open, he picked up the lamp lying on the ground and went inside.

Hermione cautiously crept closer to the open door, listening to the conversation inside with growing confusion.

She jumped as a loud clattering sound reached her. Inside the house, a man shouted "YOU!"

There was a soft hissing sound followed by the loud banging of pots and pans as they fell to the floor. She thought she heard Tom's voice whisper something softly but the noise made by the utensils as they fell masked any conversation that might be taking place inside. Hermione crept as close to the door as she dared. She heard the other man's voice again and frowned as she still couldn't comprehend what he was saying.

Suddenly, the wooden door slammed shut. Hermione jumped, startled by the sound and then decided to turn back and hide in the forest once again. It proved to be a wise decision; a few minutes after she had returned to her former spot behind a large tree, Tom emerged from the house. His face was expressionless as usual but she thought that she could detect hints of disgust and disappointment in his eyes.

Tom continued his trek through the wood, however, this time he stayed close to the edge of the woodland, just out of sight of the village below. Hermione, her curiousity now thoroughly aroused, continued to follow him. The thought that she might be intruding on something personal did flit through her mind but she somewhat guiltily dismissed it, assuaging her conscience with the assurance that she was following him for his own safety.

She noticed that the woods were not quite as small as Samantha had said. They extended around the whole village, enclosing the valley and village below in a lush layer of greenery.

Three quarters of an hour later, Hermione stopped in order to catch her breath and massage her aching legs. She was sorely tempted to turn back and abandon Tom to whatever secret shenanigans he was up to. Just as she was about to head back, he exited the forest and leapt over a small hedge to enter a lawn that led up to an old Victorian mansion.

"Doesn't he know that trespassing on private property is a crime? That house looks like it's owned by some wealthy people. Is he planning to steal something? Damn that idiotic boy!" thought Hermione, exasperated. With a small groan, she clambered over the hedge.

As they proceeded through the vast grounds and approached the house, Hermione noticed an old man staring curiously at Tom. However the man didn't say anything to him, merely muttered under his breath and began to weed the flower beds.

Finally, they reached the house. It was a busy household and as they had approached the back door, they could see the chaos of the domestic staff as they attempted to finish their respective tasks on time. The maids scrambled around and the cook shouted orders while the old gardener who had observed Tom's entry walked up to the kitchen door with some herbs in hand. Sizzling sounds and delicious aromas wafted over from the kitchen, making Hermione's stomach rumble. She glanced down at her wrist and let out a frustrated cry. She had not really paid much attention to her wristwatch since arriving in the 1940s but it was obvious that it had gone haywire. The digital display now read: 13/13/1313, 13:13 pm.

She looked up just in time to see Tom duck behind a bush and pull out a packet with two neatly wrapped sandwiches in it. With great difficulty, she resisted the urge to run over and snatch the food from him now that it was clear he had no intention of returning to Great Hangleton for lunch.

Hermione settled down near a tree that hid her from the view of anyone in the house. What on Earth was Tom doing? How long did he plan to remain here? "I'll wait here for another half an hour and then, I'll head back even if he doesn't." she resolved.

The summer sun made her feel deliciously warm and the long, exhausting trek had made her drowsy. She leaned against the tree trunk and yawned. Soon she slumped against the tree, sound asleep.

* * *

It was the insects that woke her.

As she sleepily attempted to slap them away, she missed and hit a prickly bush instead. The sharp edges of the leaves pierced through her skin and sleep and she was jerked awake, swearing under her breath. Hermione looked around her and felt as if she had been doused in cold water. The sky was dark and the stars glowed brightly above her. The kitchen too, had been shut for the night. All the lights in the house save one had been extinguished.

She looked around frantically, hoping to see someone. To her intense relief, Hermione spotted a tall figure heading towards the house. She stood up and shook the dust and leaves off her clothes, about to call out to the person if front of her. But before she could do so he turned around the corner, heading towards the front entrance of the house.

Hermione rushed after the person, but he didn't notice her. Instead he walked up to the front door of the house and knocked. She could hear a babble of voices coming from the house and a woman exclaiming, "That lazy maid just had to take an unnecessary leave tonight!"

A few minutes later the door was opened by an elderly woman, who haughtily looked down her nose at the man in front of her. "Yes?" she asked impatiently.

The man looked up and met her eyes and she stepped back as if he had slapped her. She let out a horrified gasp and cried, 'No – no! It cannot possibly be!"

He stepped forward and his features were illuminated by the light within the house. Hermione gasped; it was Tom.

He took another step forward and the woman in front of him recoiled. "Go away! My son doesn't need any reminder of that unfortunate….." she broke off and a sneer twisted her aristocratic features, "If you can read, which I doubt, you may have noticed that we do not allow beggars and tramps onto these premises."

Tom's jaw clenched but he showed no other sign of having heard the old woman's insulting speech. His dark blue eyes were furious but there was a tinge of frustration in them. "It's lovely to finally meet you, _grandmother_." he said sardonically and entered the house, pulling the door shut.

From her vantage point behind the thick bushes that seemed to grow all over the estate, Hermione had witnessed the interchange between Tom and his grandmother. Overwhelming curiousity drove her towards the house. If Tom's grandmother was alive why did he live at an orphanage? Why did she hate him so much? She seemed to be an exceedingly wealthy woman, judging by the size of her mansion. So why had she not simply sent him away to a boarding school in some distant place rather than the humble orphanage?

Cautiously, she stepped out of the shadows and made her way towards the house. She pushed the door open. Hermione stepped into a large, well lit foyer with three corridors leading away from it. As she wondered which route to take, she heard a man angrily shouting. The noise was coming from the right passage so she followed it and shortly reached a dining room.

Hermione flattened herself on the wall outside the room and listened intently to the conversation within.

"…Then we have nothing more to say to each other," A man's voice, high, cold and clear, could be heard through the open door. It bore an uncanny resemblance to Tom's and Hermione guessed that it belonged to his grandfather or some other male relative.

"Not quite," said Tom in equally cool tones, "I wish to converse with my father"

"As we have already told you, we don't need to be reminded of a mistake he committed years ago," said his grandmother shrilly, "Neither, for that matter, do the neighbourhood gossips."

"Which is precisely why I waited until nightfall. Now, I want to talk to him and I won't tolerate any further _disturbances_ from either of you."

"Disturbances!" gasped the old woman, "How dare you, you impertinent little bastard?"

Tom muttered something, his voice too soft for Hermione to hear. At once, his grandmother's protests ceased. Hermione edged closer to the door and jumped as something fell over in the room with a loud thud.

"What did you do?" asked another man, clearly shocked. His voice was deeper than the other two's and filled with disbelief. "How is that possible?"

"I want to know more about my family" said Tom, seemingly unaffected by the other man's outburst.

The man laughed scornfully, "Family? We were nothing more than a temporary mismatch and one which I hastened to correct as soon as I came to my senses. Your mother was despised by all those who knew her. Merope was nothing more than an overambitious, scheming bitch and I was greatly relieved by news of her death."

Hermione bit back a horrified shudder at the venom in the man's voice as he continued to rant about Merope, who she realized was Tom's mother.

Tom's voice cut the other man's ramble short as he questioned him coldly, "How did she die?"

"How am I supposed to know?" he said, with callous indifference, "When I left her near London she was pregnant, penniless and half out of her mind. It could have been anything, from starvation to the act of giving birth, which finally killed her."

"You knew," said Tom, anger creeping into his voice for the first time in their conversation. The enraged force behind his words made his father step away from him. "You knew and yet you did nothing to assist her or your child."

"I was busy trying to re-build the reputation that she destroyed," he sneered, recovering, "The villagers thought…"

"You cared more for what a group of useless Muggles thought than for your own?" roared Tom. His calm façade had chipped away, revealing the fury beneath.

For a moment, he struggled for words. Hermione tried to look inside the room, feeling a little sick after what she had just heard. However before she could do so, she was thrown back against the corridor's wall by a rush of red light, liberally streaked with green. Hermione moaned as her head hit the wall.

As her consciousness ebbed away, she looked up to find Tom's dark eyes make contact with hers and heard him step back with an exclamation of shock. He seemed to be struggling to regain control over himself and she noted, with sleepy surprise, that there was a wand in his hand.

_

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_

Random side-note: Tom used Petrificus Totalus on his grandparents in the beginning.

* * *

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

**ClaireReno, sweet-tang-honney, ToniaReno, Anonymous, Nephrite, UreallyDon'tWannaKnow, ****pat, CloudedDreamergal, Hermitt, KitCat61782, Emotional Scorpio, Miss Cow, TuesdayNovember, Mason and Alex, Ilaaris and striven goddess. **


	7. The Magic Begins

**The Magic Begins**

Tom struggled to regain control over himself and dispel the rage that was clouding his thoughts. Hermione's moan pierced through his anger and instinctively, he looked up. As he met her eyes, he saw that their sparkle was fading and she was rapidly losing consciousness. Her hand moved towards her pocket, as if by long habit and to his shock, she drew out a wand. He gasped and stepped back in surprise, muscles tense in preparation for a possible attack. But before she could do anything, she blacked out. Her grip loosened and the wand clattered on the floor.

Tom was stunned. He had realized that his roommate was hiding something but to think that it had been this…

He took another deep breath to calm himself and picked up her wand, inspecting it. Deftly, he pocketed it and opened the door, ready to leave. But a glance at Hermione's face made him hesitate. Lying on the floor, with her bushy hair even more tangled than usual, clothes muddied and in disarray, she was the perfect person to take the blame for everything that had happen in the Riddle House tonight. Once she was found, she would be immediately taken to the Muggle police. The entire affair would be wrapped up with no loose ends left. No one would believe her version of the tale and without her wand she would not be able to contact any other witches or wizards. Mrs. Cole might decide to file a Missing Person report but it was unlikely that the harried orphanage manager would go through that much trouble for the sake of a girl who had entered only a few days ago. After some time the case would be closed or withdrawn and everyone would assume that she had simply run away.

Leaving her here would mean being able to escape unscathed.

Perfect. _Logical_.

Muttering a curse under his breath, Tom walked up to the girl and slung her arm around his shoulder. With painstaking slowness the pair made their way to the first floor. Tom kicked open the first door they encountered. The door creaked back to reveal a pleasant sitting room. Tom set Hermione down on a couch and drew the heavy curtains over the windows. Drawing Morfin Gaunt's wand out, he pointed it towards Hermione and said, "_Enervate_"

Her eyelids fluttered and she slowly opened her eyes. Despite the gravity of the situation Tom couldn't help notice that her lashes were unusually long and very thick.

She moaned lightly and winced as she felt the bump on the back of her head with her hand. Almost of its own accord, Tom's hand moved to cover hers.

"You shouldn't be moving yet," he warned.

Hermione met his eyes and let out a small scream. She edged away from him until her back was pressed against the wall.

Tom shot her a quizzical look, surprised by her behavior. Then again, he reminded himself, everything about the girl had been shocking so far so this strange conduct wasn't really that unusual.

"What do you want, Tom Marvolo Riddle?" she practically spat the last bit out, her voice filled with hatred.

"What makes you think I want anything?" countered Tom, playing for time as his sharp mind thought of the best possible way to uncover the secrets she was hiding.

"Oh please," scoffed Hermione, "If you didn't want something I would probably have woken up in the local police station, facing charges for murder."

He almost smiled.

She took advantage of his momentary lapse in concentration and dug her hand in her pocket. Hermione drew a blank and tried her other pocket, only to find it empty as well.

"You stole my wand!" she cried angrily, her fingers involuntarily curling into fists.

"Care to press charges for theft?"

"Give it back! I won't go down like a helpless little girl!"

"'Go down'? I assume that is slang for dying where you come from, isn't it?"

Her only reply was a stare that reminded him of his extremely strict grade school teacher. He decided to change tracks.

"What's your name?"

Hermione glared at him for a while before replying tonelessly, "Hermione Granger."

"Until you feel like explaining yourself Hermione Granger, your wand is mine. I find it rather useful to own an instrument of magic that cannot be traced back to me. Also," he added, "It is not wise to leave sulky children with potentially dangerous objects."

With that Tom walked away, leaving a gaping girl and her thoughts behind.

* * *

Hermione never could remember how she managed to make her way back to the spot where the buses were parked. She could only recall vague images: a search party as they signaled others who were also looking for her that she had been found. Mrs. Cole's thunderous expression as she scolded her all the way back to the orphanage. Martha, one of the few children who had volunteered to stay behind to find her. She later learnt that most of the others had stayed back more for the adventure of traipsing through a forest at night rather than any real worry for her. Hermione never forgot the warm feel of Martha's small fingers as they squeezed her shoulder reassuringly and the young girl told her that everything was alright now.

If only she knew that the nightmare was yet to begin.

Hermione's stomach was knotted with dread and anticipation on the way back to London. She was sitting in front, next to Mrs. Cole while Tom was seated at the back of the bus, apparently absorbed in a book.

She had instinctively shrunk back as he passed her and his hand brushed against her head. She was furious with herself as she saw the calculating look in his eyes and knew that he had noticed her lapse.

"Irresponsible, irrational, I have never in my life seen something so foolish…"

Mrs. Cole's tirade washed past her ears even as her mind replayed her conversation with Tom.

"_Care to press charges for theft?"_

Hermione gave her head a resolute shake and decided to speed up her plan to return to her own time. She no longer had time to kill. Had Mrs. Cole not been seated next to her, she would have smiled at the unexpected pun.

There was just one problem with her plan: She didn't have one.

* * *

Hermione had been determined to stay awake and plan her escape that night. However exhaustion from her eventful day soon claimed her and within minutes she was asleep. Unlike Harry, Hermione, even at her most depressed and angry, had never been prey to disturbing dreams and she slept soundly.

As Tom slipped into the room, half an hour later he chuckled. He was rather proud of his ability to intimidate people. But still, deep within him, lurked a natural ability to appreciate the ridiculous. It was a side of him that he kept carefully guarded from the rest of the world, the softest and most vulnerable part of his soul. But sometimes, as he lay in bed, he couldn't help but wonder why people were so easily scared by what he deemed regrettably necessary theatrics. In his second year all he'd had to do was say a few threatening words in a suitably low, cold voice accompanied by an explosion and the other Slytherin boys had quivered with fear. The air of authority that had surrounded him after his discovery of the Chamber didn't hurt either.

But somehow, despite all this, he had failed to intimidate a teenage witch whose wand he held.

* * *

The man standing behind the bar of The Leaky Cauldron had been inn-keeper for a decade now. During that time he had served not only ordinary wizards and witches but also the excited parents of Muggle-born students, warlocks, house-elves, goblins and even a centaur as well as several less than respectable creatures. As such, he was quite unfussed when a distraught young girl entered his shop, clad in Muggle clothes and hysterically sobbing that she had been robbed of her bag, which contained both her wand and her money.

The other patrons of the pub were not quite as experienced and exploded into a round of loud chatter. An old woman accompanying a group of young witches said triumphantly, "Now this is the very reason you little things should never walk around this dangerous city unaccompanied!" A kind woman seated on the left offered to buy her some tea to soothe her nerves. Another group seated in the corner examined her Muggle clothes with a mixture of fascination and disgust and then returned to their own conversation, completely ignoring her presence. A pleasant looking young man who had been standing near the bar walked up to her and said politely, "Anything I can do to help, ma'am?"

"Oh yes, please," said Hermione as sweetly as she could with glycerine stinging in her eyes, causing fake tears to pour.

"I'm Julian Thomas," he said, gently guiding her towards a table in the corner, "Anything you would like to drink?"

"Some Butterbeer would be lovely," she sniffed, hoping that her pathetic acting skills were enough to fool him.

Julian looked surprised and said, "Are you sure you can handle it? It is generally considered a trifle strong for girls."

Hermione mentally cursed herself for forgetting, yet again, that this was the 1940s and not the 21st century.

"I was hoping it would soothe my nerves. But you're right; I should just have a Gillywater instead."

As Julian went to the bar to fetch her drink, Hermione wiped away the last of her crocodile tears with a handkerchief.

Her hastily formed plan appeared to be working successfully. It wasn't a plan so much as a way to enter the Wizarding World without arousing any unnecessary attention or altering the flow of time in any way. But she did wonder whether she was already caught in a time paradox.

She had woken up early that morning and packed her few belongings into a small bag. Running away from the orphanage had been a risky decision but the sheer incongruity of sharing a room with the future Dark Lord outweighed the advantages of staying, in her mind. She had remembered the name of a music store near the Leaky Cauldron and had finally succeeded in finding it. Hermione could have cried for relief when she saw the familiar landmark in an unfamiliar time.

A plan had sprung to her mind and she had acted without giving herself any time for reflection. Quickly, she messed up her dress and ruffled her hair a little. A discarded bottle of gylcerine that still had a few drops left inside it had added the finishing touch.

Julian returned to their table, carrying her Gillywater and mug of Butterbeer for himself. She looked at his drink wistfully for a second before wrinkling her nose and taking a cautious sip of Gillywater. It took her a great deal of self control not to spit it back out at once and she mentally ranted about medieval times in which a girl couldn't even get a decent drink.

"…name?"

Hermione tried taking another sip of her drink before realizing that Julian was looking at her expectantly.

"Sorry?"

"I asked you your name."

"I'm Hermione…"

A pale hand gripped her shoulder and she turned back to see Tom Riddle standing behind her.

"…Riddle. My sister."

Her hands reflexively balled up to form fists. Tom noticed this and was amused. He explained to Julian, "I was taking her to Diagon Alley for some shopping. But London can be a very confusing city for those unacquainted with it. We were unfortunately separated by the crowd and she got lost."

"I didn't know you had a sister, Riddle" said Julian, confused.

"Hermione is my half sister," said Tom confidently.

She gritted her teeth. He was a brilliant actor and consummate liar and the worst of it was that she couldn't do a thing to stop him or protest. The consequences of even such a small incident as a fight in the Leaky Cauldron could be disastrous for the natural time flow. What if one of the other patrons got hurt in the fight? Would their lives as well as those of their descendants be changed?

Julian nodded. "I see. Er… Riddle, if you don't mind me asking… Why are you dressed in Muggle attire? I thought you were a pure blood"

"I've been visiting relatives in a Muggle neighbourhood."

"Well, at least you got the outfit right," laughed Julian, "The other day I saw old Bob Ogden in a pink bathing suit and some kind of green cover. He had some business with Muggles that day and thought it best to remain 'inconspicuous'"

Tom smiled politely at this anecdote and looked up at the watch hanging above the bar. It was a jumble of planets and small golden disks but apparently, this was enough for him to tell the time. He sighed regretfully and said, "I'm afraid I'll have to leave now. We're getting late."

"That reminds me, I have to get home too. My sister has a long list of things that 'simply must be bought today'," grimaced Julian.

"You have my sympathies," said Hermione attempting to make a recovery. She pretended not to notice the way's Tom's eyes flicked towards her calculatingly. Hermione waved as Julian took some Floo powder from his pocket and disappeared in a blaze of green fire.

Turning to Tom, she said sardonically, "So you're a pure blood. How _bloody_ convenient."

For a moment he looked down at her, an unfathomable expression in his eyes.

He had been amused by her rather foolish attempt to escape and decided to teach her a lesson. Tom had been silently following her since she had first left the orphanage and watched. He found her ingenuity unusual and entertaining. Courage was not a virtue with which he had much experience. His followers, for friends he would never deign to call them, were a cowardly lot. They accompanied him, hoping that some of his talent, charisma and popularity would rub off on them but at the same time they were wary of him and took care never to offend him.

That a 16 year old girl could challenge him had never crossed his mind. Yet, she stood in front of him, sneering, with her arms folded in front of her. With a start, he realized that she was waiting for him to speak and shook himself out of his unaccustomed reverie.

"We should get back soon. If Mrs. Cole wakes up and finds your bed empty… We have enough to deal with without another one of your little dramas"

"My little dramas?" gasped Hermione, "Why you filthy, little…"

"You opinion of me is a matter of indifference to me. To put it plainly, 'I am not interested in anything you have to say unless it is the truth'"

"Oh, I can _truthfully_ guarantee – I have never met anyone that I disliked as much as you!"

"Come, Hermione."

Wordlessly, she stalked towards the door, not paying any attention to the bartender's cheery goodbye or a lady who advised her to take care and not wander the streets of London unaccompanied.

She refused to so much as look at Tom as they made their way back. Once they reached the orphanage, she slammed the bathroom door shut and locked herself in for half an hour. For the rest of the day, she refused to acknowledge him and instead chatted with Martha about any and every topic she could think of – from the sensible to the inane. Martha seemed surprised by the burst of volubility in her new friend but happily complied.

Tom, on the other hand, opened his diary and added a new chapter to it, a smirk playing about his lips.

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AN: Thanks to sweet-tang-honney, Hermitt, TuesdayNovember, ClaireReno, strivengoddess, Michelle Amethyst, Sir Stud Muffin and KatieMarrie for their awesome reviews :)


	8. Evasion

**Evasion**

A week ago, if anyone had told Hermione that doing laundry with a younger version of Voldemort would shortly become one of her daily chores, she would have advised them to get air holes drilled into their skull.

Unfortunately, Martha had finally overcome her fear of Tom and gone to call Hermione down for breakfast. When she found both their beds empty, she had been terrified and raised the alarm at once. Mrs. Cole, when she first heard the news, had been incredulous. Could the girl honestly be so foolish as to run away again after the disastrous events the day before? She asked both the maids about it but neither of them was of much help. Amy said that the girl had seemed upset about 'being a burden' but that still didn't fully explain her bizarre actions. Just as Mrs. Cole decided that there was nothing they could do except call the police if she didn't show up by nightfall, Hermione walked in, her expression stormy.

Mrs. Cole's loud lecture to her about the folly of a young girl walking around London unescorted in the early hours of the morning drew plenty of curious onlookers. Girls and boys of all ages crept out of their rooms to watch the early morning spectacle. Hermione simply stood there, refusing to face Mrs. Cole. She was torn between a desire to strangle someone (preferably Tom) or burst into tears.

Finally Amy meekly interrupted, "Ma'am? It's almos' time fer breakfast."

Mrs. Cole glared at her before turning to Hermione once again and announcing, in a voice that brooked no arguement, "As punishment, you can help with some of the domestic work. Although most of the chores have already been split up for the summer between the other children, I'm sure Amy will find something for you to do. However instead of working one chore a day like the others, you will do two! Am I clear?"

She swept out of the room without waiting for an answer, such a thunderous look on her face that the others quickly cleared her path. The sound of her office door shutting with a loud bang echoed all over the orphanage.

"Well, that's that then!" said Amy brightly, "Clar' ll hand out yer food. Move to the tables fast!"

As food was in short supply at the orphanage and those who arrived late rarely received any, all the children dispersed at once except a tearful Martha who said, "Oh Ann, I had no idea you would be in so much trouble! But I was very worried! Where on earth did you go?"

Before Hermione could reply, a cool voice cut her off, saying, "She accompanied me."

"Why doesn't he get punished for leaving without a word?" asked Hermione angrily.

Unexpectedly, Amy giggled and said, "That's jus' sweet! An' to think I had no idea! Well, up to yer rooms and ready both. Try to hurry!"

Giving them a small wink, she left, still smiling. Hermione was completely befuddled. What had just happened? Even Martha, who had been crying a moment ago was now bright red and said awkwardly, "Er…I'll go eat now."

"Wait a minute, not so fast! What was Amy talking about?" said Hermione, firmly grabbing her elbow.

"Well, since Tom doesn't usually take anyone to his parent's graves…"

"His _what_?"

"His ma died giving birth to him and her body was buried nearby so he goes there to visit her grave every Sunday morning. Mrs. Cole gave him permission ages ago. But of course you'll know all that, since you've just been there."

"Of course," agreed Tom, pleasantly.

Hermione jumped when he spoke. She had almost forgotten that he too was still standing there.

"Well, see you at breakfast! Hurry up otherwise it'll all be gone!"

With that Martha ran away, eager to get out of the tense atmosphere that still hung in the room.

"You told them you were visiting your mother every Sunday?"

"Some of the children like to do so before attending Mass," he pointed out with sham-innocently.

"Church!" Hermione almost choked on the word, "You told them you were praying on Sunday mornings? And they actually believed you?"

"Our Mrs. Cole is something of a rebel when it comes to religion. She was cast out of her exceedingly devout family for it. She firmly believes in following a policy of _to each his own_. She does not follow any particular religion but those who wish to attend Church merely have to ask her and she lets them go."

"So do you go to Diagon Alley every Sunday?"

He gave her a small, enigmatic smile and left the room. Hermione ran after him and snapped, "Not so fast, you have a lot of explaining to do."

Tom glared and said, "I tend to stay away from magical locations as I dislike being seen abroad in Muggle attire. Does that satisfy your curiousity?"

The moment he said those words, he wished he could take them back. The girl standing in front of him was so very irritating that his cool façade had slipped away for a moment. For that one second, he had felt like nothing more than an annoyed boy and reacted the way any youth would. Tom was extremely angry, both with himself and Hermione. The smallest of slips could prove to be the undoing of the plan he had worked so hard to create ever since the beginning of his fourth year and finally set into motion this summer.

"Not quite. I have plenty of questions left," replied Hermione calmly. She had seen enough displays of Harry and Ron's tempers to be unaffected by his outburst.

"So do I. And you don't deserve my answers any more than I deserve yours, do you?"

"Wordplay is not going to get you out of this!"

"No. But this is," said Tom and knocked down a small, dusty, old painting hanging on the wall behind him. It fell to the ground with a loud clatter and before Hermione could comprehend his plan she found herself in his arms.

His warm body pressed against hers, too close for comfort. She could feel his breath against her hair, his hands holding her tightly lest she attempt to fight him off. His right hand encased hers, so she could not draw her wand.

Tom kicked the painting so that it made some more noise and they heard the sound of a chair being pushed back from Mrs. Cole's office, which was further down the corridor.

"Finally," he muttered and tightened his embrace. Hermione could feel his heart beating through the thin shirt he wore and her own quickened. The sound melted away her fear and suddenly she understood that at the moment, he was not the future Lord Voldemort, he was simply Tom Riddle. A dangerous boy but a boy nonetheless.

And in the middle of this jumble of thoughts and emotions flitting through her head a single spark of attraction flickered to life and lazily coursed through her body.

"Harrison! Riddle! What is the meaning of this?" screamed Mrs. Cole. She had heard the commotion in the corridor and come out of her office to investigate. Her expression was one of utmost horror.

Tom released her at once and looked vaguely embarrassed. Hermione's cheeks flushed as she realised what Mrs. Cole must be thinking.

"I think," said the orphanage mistress, pursing her lips, "That we will be able to find suitable accommodation for Miss Harrison elsewhere in the orphanage by today evening. Please pack your belongings by then, Ann. Also, any further scrapes that you get into may result in your being sent to our sister institution in Cornwall."

Cornwall! Hermione had absolutely no idea whether there were any Wizarding towns or villages in that area. It would make it impossible for her to seek help in this time. She wisely kept her mouth shut as Mrs. Cole called Amy and gave her instructions to move all of Hermione's belongings to the big room on the first floor that all the girls shared.

Mrs. Cole then walked away, pausing at her office door to say, "I'll be keeping an eye on both of you!"

* * *

He watched. He waited. He slowly grew frustrated. He could not make a move yet, not until his orders came. In the meantime, the boy was gathering allies and becoming more powerful by the day. He had warned his master that this could happen, that the boy was uncommonly talented. His master had merely replied that it should add a challenging tinge to the task of killing him.

In some ways, he was almost sorry about what he was about to do. The boy was an intriguing individual and might have been a useful tool when he grew older. But the reward his master had promised him wiped away all sorrow and mercy from his mind every time he thought about it. He was no fool. He knew that the master would probably attempt to double cross him. But he was also content to follow his plan for now. If the master did not try to cheat him, it would make things much easier. But if he did, he had his own contingency plans and escape routes. If they failed, they would have no need of each other. One of them would have to be eliminated and he did not intend to be that one.

His thoughts returned to the boy as he quietly observed him from afar. In his opinion, this was the time when the job should be done. The boy was at his most vulnerable in the summer, when he returned to the orphanage that he reluctantly called home. If he was found murdered in a back alley in these troubled times, the Muggles would be unlikely to raise the right questions. Oh, they would investigate but even they would realise the futility of attempting to discover one cut throat among the many that were currently haunting the city. Every household was feeling pinched because of the war, most would do anything to save the fragmented remains of their families. As a result, mercenaries abounded, willing to price a life as low as a few pounds.

They might ask what he was doing in the alley. But there are so many reasons a teenage boy can be visiting one. A few traces of alcohol in his body would allay all suspicions and he would be left with nothing more to do than to shake his head sadly and feign surprise.

But the boy's newest alley might complicate matters. His eyes narrowed as he watched their studied attempts to ignore each other's presence. The girl was obviously magical. Her hand often strayed to her pocket, as if to draw out a wand and her expression turned into one of frustration when she realised that she couldn't. He didn't know how the boy had met her or why she had arrived at the orphanage. Was it nothing more than coincidence? Or was it some deeper plot that the boy had connived? He did not know the answers and it angered him.

A short blonde, laughed at something the girl said and responded, "That can't possibly be true, Ann!" The girl smiled and pushed her brown hair back, off her shoulders.

The boy was reading to all appearances, but his eyes were distant and dreamy. He occasionally glanced at the girl and then quickly looked away.

The watcher held back a yawn and continued to observe them.

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AN: I'm so sorry for the long wait between chapters! Thanks to sweet-tang-honney, Hermitt, KatieMarrie, Tuesday November, imaginexthat, ClaireReno, abcdreamer and the awesome anonymous reviewer who didn't leave a name but gave an impressively long review.

**IMPORTANT!**

**I'm messing a little with the timeline to fit my story better. This fanfic is set in the year 1944. However, unlike cannon, Tom's age is 16 years, not 18, at this time.**


	9. Plans UnMade

_Plans (Un)Made_

Hermione was absolutely certain that she would be a certified lunatic before the week was out.

She had woken up barely two minutes ago, her mood peaceful and happy in a way that only drowsiness can induce. She had enjoyed the warmth and comfort of her blanket for another minute and then reached out for her wand.

Instead of her wand, she found two other things:

First, the beds in the girl's dormitory did not have bedside tables.

Second, her wand was still in Tom Riddle's possession.

These realizations about her whereabouts as well as her wand's current location succeeded in putting her in a foul mood for the rest of the morning. Hermione's bad mood was compounded by the fact that Amy had reminded her of the second she stepped out of the dormitory. Her new chores, received as punishment for sneaking out, not once but twice, involved a partner who would be sharing them and in theory at least, 'help her'.

As if that was even possible when said partner was Tom Riddle.

* * *

Surprisingly, Tom was completely silent while carrying out his tasks and didn't initiate any further conversation. Amy whispered that it was because Mrs. Cole had read him a stern lecture about what had occurred between him and Hermione the day before, but Hermione doubted that a mere scolding by a Muggle woman would have subdued him to this extent.

Despite that, she followed his lead and did not say anything beyond a polite 'Good morning,' to him for the two hours it took them to finish the chore. It would have taken a lot longer but Tom was appeared to be almost unconsciously using wandless magic to scrub away the stains before he so much as touched the clothes. After that, all Hermione had to do was wet them in a little soapy water and hand them over to Clar to dry, pretending that she had manually washed each piece.

"The two of you make some team! I reckon, we should have you do this every day, make my work easier," she said cheerfully.

Hermione gave a slightly forced smile at the maid's playful comment and said, "This was the last of the lot. May we leave now?"

"Of course. Breakfast is still on the table. If you hurry you might still get something."

Hermione nodded and walked towards the room where breakfast was kept. Tom, however, turned back to his room.

Hermione was itching to ask him why he appeared to disdain mealtimes at the orphanage so much and secretly ate later. Years of shouting out questions at teachers had hardly trained her to keep her curiousity in check so after a few seconds of internal battle she finally voiced her thoughts.

He looked surprised by her question. Instead of answering, Tom merely smiled politely and walked on.

The boy was a complete enigma. Outwardly, he was polite. To most, he was even charming. But despite all that, he was a mystery.

Hermione Granger hated mysteries.

She possessed an overwhelming curiousity about anything and everything. Her parents, teachers and friends had indulged her. Some of her peers had mocked her 'know-it-all-ness' as they'd termed it. But never had any of them succeeded in keeping a secret she wished to uncover from her.

She had beaten Tom Riddle once, in her second year at Hogwarts by uncovering the nature of the monster within the Chamber of Secrets. She would beat him again. It was her only chance of returning to her own time.

"But first," thought Hermione, "I'll need my wand."

_

* * *

_

Dong!

_Dong!_

The church bells rang at precisely midnight. Mrs. Cole tiredly gathered the papers she had been working on, blew out the candles in her office and rose. She locked her office door behind her as she exited the room and walked to her own bedroom, near the girls' dormitories. Her mind was occupied with next month's budget and rising prices. As she passed the dormitory, she noticed a light shining from under the door and a shadow moving within.

Thoughts of the rebellious Ann Harrison filled her brain and she was immediately suspicious. She opened the door and saw a small girl timidly looking up at her.

"Yes?" she inquired, softly so as not to wake the others.

"Please, Mrs. Cole, I want to use the toilet down the hall," the girl broke off and looked around to make sure everyone else was asleep, blonde hair flying, "I-I'm scared of the dark. Would you mind terribly if I took a candle with me?"

Mrs. Cole smiled kindly, weariness forgotten as she looked at the child before her. This was the reason she had started the orphanage with the money her late husband had left her. Her fondness for children was only accentuated by the fact that she and Mr. Cole had never been able to have any. Beneath her sometimes rough exterior, she had a genuine desire to help them grow.

"Would you like me to escort you?"

The girl shook her head and said adamantly, "I'm going to do this on my own!"

"Alright then. But you may wake me if you need to."

But as Mrs. Cole drifted off to sleep, she wondered whether the little girl, with her frightened expression and clenched knuckles would truly be fine.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and sunny, a perfect day on which the birds sang and flowers bloomed.

If only Tom Riddle had it that easy. He had woken up at his usual time of 6 AM and immediately began to peruse the book he had been reading the night before Hermione arrived. He had been unable to keep up with both his usual reading and her and so been unable to finish reading about the making of Horcruxes before setting out for his father's house. By the time the rest of the orphanage began to stir, he was ready to begin practicing the complex spells of Horcrux making. He reached for Hermione's wand, which he had stowed away in the bottom of his trunk. It was protected, ironically, by a spell cast from its very tip that kept its rightful owner at bay and would alert him should she attempt to steal it back.

His fingers grasped thin air. After several attempts and an agitated unpacking of his trunk, Tom still hadn't found it.

His first thought was that he must have misplaced it. He dismissed it summarily. He simply couldn't have been that careless. It was a golden stick of opportunity for him, the object every magical youth yearned for – an untraceable wand.

A second thought crept into his mind unbidden. Could Hermione have stolen it back? He was tempted to laugh the idea off. There was no way she could have bypassed his ward with wandless magic. It was a simple enough spell, true but his own magical prowess made it several times stronger. At any rate, even a weak version of the spell would have alerted him had she attempted to steal it.

There was a firm knock on his door. Tom almost groaned. Had he still possessed Hermione's wand he would have been tempted to blast the intruder to bits but as it was, he pasted a polite smile on his face and said, "Enter."

Mrs. Cole walked in with a determined look on her face and said, "Why aren't you at breakfast, Tom?"

"I wasn't feeling particularly hungry, Mrs. Cole. I believe I may be ill."

"Then we'll have a doctor in to look at you," she said briskly.

"The malady will be cured by some bed-rest, I'm sure. There is no need for the expense of a doctor."

"Nonsense. If you're sick, we must call one. Can't risk another infection sweeping through the entire orphanage. The last one ate away most of my health budget for the year."

"I assure you, I merely have a headache."

"In that case, breakfast will do you a world of good. I don't approve of you skipping meals all the time, Tom. We've talked about this before and it's not healthy for a boy your age to miss so many meals."

Tom reluctantly stood up and followed Mrs. Cole to the breakfast parlor. He preferred to gulp down a quick glass of milk and continue his search for the wand than be forced to endure another lecture from the head of the orphanage.

He noticed Hermione, sitting next to the Muggle girl she appeared to have befriended and smiling at something the other girl said. But his sharp eyes picked up the traces of guilt in her features and he examined the girl next to her more carefully, looking for clues to its source.

The girl was rather short for her age and had a mass of feathery blonde curls. She looked rather pale, as though she hadn't slept well the night before. She met his critical eyes for a moment and let out a small squeak, which he interpreted from long experience as fear. But strangely, she looked far more guilty than afraid. Her face was bright red and she looked at the floor as though she wished it would open up and swallow her.

Tom was puzzled by her reaction and even more mystified when she mumbled something that made Hermione look in the other direction, away from him.

A terrible idea began to form in his brain…

And as he caught sight of the wand poking just a little bit out of Hermione's pocket, his suspicions were proved correct.

He immediately took the seat next to her and snarled, "How?"

"Your arrogance made it almost laughably easy. You were so sure that no one would dare steal from you, awe-inspiring as you believe yourself to be. And your wards would indeed have been difficult to pass for a witch as they would set off at the slightest hint of magical activity. So I had Martha steal it," she replied. She held her toast up and regarded the substance spread on it with distaste.

"A Muggle rifled through my trunk's contents…" Tom almost choked with anger.

"I Oblivated her later. But I wasn't quite good enough to repress all her memories. So I altered them slightly. She thinks she stole a gold chain that belonged to my mother that you took away from me. She doesn't recall stealing from your trunk at all. She thinks she picked it up from your bedside."

Guilt washed over Hermione's features again but Tom was too enraged to see it.

"This isn't over," he said. He picked up another toast and pushed his chair back, unaffected by Mrs. Cole's glare in his direction.

Hermione thought his blue eyes looked magnificent when they flashed with infuriation.

* * *

To understand Tom Riddle's master-plan for his life, one must first understand a truth that only true geniuses can see in everyday life: Simplicity. The best plans are often the simplest ones. With elaborate plans, the risks are manifold and increase with each step. If you perceive that there are four possible ways in which something can go wrong and circumvent these, then a fifth way will promptly develop.

Many thought that the ambitious Tom Riddle sought power. They were wrong. Tom Riddle sought _control_. At first, all he wanted was control of his own destiny. All his life he had been pushed and pulled on the whims of that capricious mistress, Fate. The people and circumstances around him had shaped his life.

Had he been a complacent boy, content to allow others to manage his affairs, he would have been very happy. However, Tom was not complacent. He had been an active, energetic baby, forever climbing out of the crib that the exasperated maids put him in. He was curious and as he grew older, he poked and prodded anything he could reach. Mrs. Cole believed it to be a child's playfulness and brushed it away.

No one in the busy orphanage noticed as Tom began to play with the first sparks of the powerful magic that flowed in his veins. At first, he created small sparks to amuse himself. Their glow near little Tom was always put down to the unpredictable sun peeking out from behind the clouds outside the open nursery windows. Later, he learned to make the sparks grow hot or cold depending on the weather.

Then came the fateful day when a girl named Marly Rogers yanked his hair to tease him. Tom felt his quick temper rise to the surface and within seconds Marly was screaming as sparks flew around them. The noise attracted Mrs. Cole, who had been conversing with a guest in a room nearby. However, by the time she entered Tom had willed the sparks away, horrified by his ability to scare others so. Yet Marly's terrified shouts had pleased him. It felt pleasant to be the one in charge for a change, the one issuing the commands, not following them. The one creating circumstances, not flowing with them.

As his body and mind grew, so did his magic. Tom realised that he was the only one who could summon the mysterious power. He had grown fond of his power. The magic obeyed him, it created whatever he desired. But despite that, he was slightly reluctant to use it. It was alluring true, but he disliked being alone. Attempts to show off to the other children were always met with sneers. Tom was too young to spot the mixture of fear and fascination that the jeers poorly masked.

Unconsciously following the pattern set by his ancestor, he adapted to his surroundings. Tom stopped trying to mingle and instead focused on his greatest strength – Himself. He worked hard, until he achieved perfect control of the power within him. One day, when the orphans went on their annual picnic he led two children away to an isolated cave and tested himself. Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop never recovered fully and he did feel a slight pang of guilt over it which he shook off with memories of Amy stealing his breakfast and Dennis cruelly mimicking him.

One day, while he was engaged in idly plucking grass under the hot summer sun, a garden snake spoke to him. He was dumbfounded to find a reptile speaking English. The garden snake did not offer much conversation and began to slither away all too soon. And so, Tom discovered his gift of Parseltongue as he called out to the snake to stay with him a little while longer. Throughout that week, he attempted to talk to various other animals without success, leading to confirmation of his whispered insanity among the other children.

When he left for Hogwarts, his peers heaved sighs of relief. Among them a few voices could be heard complaining that they wouldn't have anything more to gossip about once he returned from school, licked into proper shape. They need not have bothered because when Tom Riddle returned, he was a different boy from the part frightened part suspicious child who had left a year ago. There was an air of authority clinging to him along with a distinct hint of menace. His blue eyes weren't the sharp, merciless icicles that they would become in the years that followed but they too had changed beyond recognition.

Tom Riddle had seen what he wanted and was determined to get it. He would control not only his own life but also the lives of the entire population, Wizarding and Muggle. The thought gave him immense satisfaction as he recalled how both had attempted to shove him into their own narrow molds of life and succeeded only in their own eyes. The Wizarding world saw a well-mannered, intelligent boy who might grow up to be a good leader. The Muggles saw a strange and slightly frightening boy. Both were equally correct and incorrect. Tom Riddle had fit their molds. To break them would have drawn unnecessary attention he knew himself to be unprepared for. To simply slip through the molds, to quietly expand his horizons was more cunning.

Tom Marvolo Riddle would control his world in the future that he knew to be just around the corner.

To do so, he would follow the beautifully simple plan he had perfected by his fourth year. To conquer Britain he would first need to conquer its main political body: The Ministry of Magic. To penetrate those well guarded old walls of institution, he would need to reach the people within. The easiest way to touch people's hearts and fears was through their most precious possessions, their children, who were well within his reach at Hogwarts. He had already ensured that the future heirs of the powerful pureblood families regarded him as their leader. The rest of the students found him equally inspiring and rare was the parent (more often than not a Ministry worker himself) who had not heard of the exploits of the wonderful Tom Riddle. Before his fifth year had ended Tom knew that any position he wanted at the Ministry would be his for the asking.

Lately he had found himself drawn to the newer, better strategies that seemed to work so well for a Muggle who was fast gaining power across the globe. They had their risks though his success would be far greater if he applied them effectively. But was he ready for something so drastic?

Tom's hand shook as he furiously scribbled in the diary where he had previously written his plans. On that day, the main topic of his concern was not the Ministry but a mysterious witch who believed she had outwitted him.

After an hour of uninterrupted writing, he leaned back against the wall of his bedroom. It was time for Hermione Granger to learn whom she was trifling with.

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_

_I also apologize if this chapter seems a little Rushed (insert excuses for the truly terrible pun here). It's just been so long that I wanted this up as soon as possible!_

_Thanks to my ultra fabulous reviewers, I hope you guys are still reading this, and thanks for being the ultra-fabulous people that you know you are: __**sweet-tang-honney, Hermitt, abcdreamer, mad-bout-horses-n-cowboys, Vito, TuesdayNovember, ClaireReno, HanaHime2, Abby34, Greeny120 and meechmacmillanofhufflepuff.**_

_Congrats and virtual cookies to anyone who can guess which Muggle leader Tom is referring to!_

AN: I'm so, so sorry for the late update! Forgive me, please? I've been spending all my time writing an Artemis Fowl/PJO crossover that I want to complete before posting. But since I'm stuck on a particular scene with that and it's been months since I updated this fic, I've left it for a while.


	10. 1924

_Flashback - 1924_

The Auror Department of the British Ministry of Magic was far more pleasant than the grim work carried out there. There were always plenty of people sneaking in a cup of tea hours before their breaks and friends stopping in the hallways for a chat, just as in any of the other Departments.

But Nathan Johnson, the Assistant Head of the Department, believed in holding himself slightly aloft from the friendly camaraderie of his juniors. He was a handsome man, with a strong chiseled jaw and twinkling brown eyes. His dark hair was slightly windswept as he Apparated into the Department, at the precise spot designated for doing so. Nathan was a man of rigid principles and he prided himself on being a conservative man in the midst of an age where the world was littered with extremes. His attitude was reflected in every little thing about him; from the way he dressed – wearing the exact robes that the Ministry guidelines prescribed for the workers of his department rather than the casual robes his contemporaries preferred – to his exchange of morning greetings with his coworkers. He nodded politely at the numerous "Good Mornings," thrown his way and gave a slight smile to a young receptionist who he knew very well had a crush on him. The girl in question blushed brightly and stuttered, "Have a good day," but by then he had already moved on.

He undid the small Safety Spell he had put on his office lock and twisted the doorknob. Upon entering, the first thing he did was to reach for his day planner, a small brown diary in which he wrote down all that he had to do on a particular day. It was an old-fashioned way of keeping records of all that he had to do, true, but Nathan liked it anyway. As Nathan was perusing its contents and frowning at the thought of having to endure another meeting with the insufferable Mr. Black, the receptionist entered his office with a cup of tea in her hand and bright spots of colour on her cheeks.

"Would you like some tea, sir?" she asked him breathlessly.

He nodded and accepted the offered cup. "Thank you, Amanda."

But despite the clear dismissal, Amanda stood there and Nathan inwardly groaned at the thought of another woman asking him out. His age, old enough to make him seem mysterious to the young girls who joined the Department straight out of Hogwarts and young enough to make him appealing, had bought him more offers than he could count. But unfortunately for these starry-eyed teens, if there was one thing that Nathan absolutely detested, it was a so-called modern woman who threw herself at a man with a confidence that in his opinion barely masked her desperation.

To save himself the inconvenience of a weeping junior in his office, he said, "Isn't that Miss Rogers calling you, Miss Burbage? Perhaps you should go see what she requires."

Amanda looked at the door and said, "I'm sure it's nothing urgent, sir."

"Oh, you children," he said deliberately, "Never thinking anything is important. Yesterday, Mr. Cattermole from the Weather Department was so distracted by the Quidditch match on the WWW, he uttered the wrong incantation for an entire district and now look at the storm I have barely managed to evade." He held a slightly damp sleeve up for her inspection with an expression of comical dismay on his face. "A pity, is it not, Miss Burbage?"

"Yes, sir," she replied tonelessly, "I better go see what Christina wants."

Nathan nodded once again and heaved a sigh of relief when Amanda Burbage exited his office without any further drama. Returning to the book on his desk, he saw that his first job for the day was an introduction to the new Trainee Aurors who had just signed up for one of the Wizarding World's most dangerous jobs with excited smiles on their faces.

He smoothed his hair back and straightened his robes before exiting. This introduction was traditionally made to the Head of the Department but the current Head had a strange ability to discover a vital clue related to an Important Case at the same time a particularly tedious duty presented itself before him. He jovially referred to Johnson as his right-hand man and assured the Minister that he was perfectly capable of handling all the more boring tasks that fell to a Head's lot. As the Head was an easy-going man and Nathan the real force behind the Department's workings, it was not unusual for new members to mistake him for the Head. His imposing, almost regal aura and air of importance did little to dispel their belief. Later when they discovered that Johnson was just the Asst. Head, they also learnt that he was the one everyone in the Department looked up to and regarded as their true leader.

His entrance into the practice hall that was usually cleaned up and used for such ceremonies, created a stir among the small crowd assembled there. Whispers broke out amongst the teenagers and Nathan heard a girl say in a loud whisper, "So good-looking, isn't he? I wouldn't mind learning anything from him!"

He bit back a disdainful reply at the comment and patiently bore all the giggling, hushed words and murmurs with a smile fixed on his face. Christina Rogers, one of the brightest women the Auror Department had seen in years, stepped into the room and began to introduce the Trainees to him, one by one. Nathan addressed a few words to each of them individually and it was not surprising that most were thoroughly charmed by him.

"And this is Tanya Malfoy."

One of Nathan's eyebrows rose at the unusual first name and both drew together in confusion at the second. The name Malfoy was usually heard more often in the Criminal Records Section and on the lips of frustrated Ministry attorneys than in the halls of the Auror Department.

The girl standing before him seemed to be fully aware of this but her gray eyes held his in a steady regard until he looked away, feeling slightly dizzy. Miss Rogers continued to name more people but the rest of the ceremony passed in a blur. Nathan tried to convince himself that it didn't matter if he had forgotten to speak to a single Trainee; that it didn't matter if a pair of gray eyes thought badly of him. He attempted to attribute his sudden light-headedness and lack of concentration during the ceremony to the terrible quality of the tea the receptionist had bought him.

He failed miserably.

All through the ceremony, all that Nathan could think of was the expression in those eyes. It was defiant, betraying her fiery spirit, he decided and just a bit afraid of rejection. There was an underlying vulnerability too, that made him itch to rush to her side and tell her that he would take care of everything for her.

Nathan, drowning but valiant, struggled to remind himself of his dislike of extreme emotion. He replayed memories in which he had extolled on the inadvisability of women working in such a risky Department as his. He told himself about his dislike of the modern women of the 1920s, who demanded the right to vote and war alongside their men. Nathan reminded himself of his love of perfection and order, of the chaos that inevitably followed _love_. He started as his mind thought the word without even bothering to ask him for his permission. But as he rolled it around, first in his head and then on his tongue it didn't seem quite so bad, after all.

* * *

The next day, Nathan and Tanya met once again. She was standing by the tea-maker near his office, looking at the slightly dirty kettle with her nose scrunched up in distaste at the same time as he arrived to get himself a refreshing cup of the brew. He thought she looked like a perfect lady of the manor, confronted by a disobedient House Elf.

Why had he never noticed how adorable she looked when frustrated?

The answer that sprang to his mind almost made Nathan blush. They had only met once before. He had hardly had the time to understand her moods or behaviour in the space of a few precious seconds. It was funny how they now seemed like an eternity to him. She looked up as he walked in and said, "Tea, sir?"

"Thank you, Miss Malfoy."

Nathan cursed himself inwardly for answering her so automatically, almost like a useless Muggle machine. She gave a small sigh which unsettled her long blonde hair and flicked her wand reluctantly. As he admired the almost white hue of her hair, the tea boiled.

"Sir?"

He thought she seemed a little unnerved by his scrutiny but dismissed it as sheer nerves at meeting a superior officer on her part. Nathan was sure he hadn't been blatantly staring, had he?

"Your tea, sir."

Tanya handed him his tea a tad too quickly, sloshing some on her hand. Concerned, he asked her, "Are you alright, Tanya?" He held her hand up for inspection.

An expression Nathan couldn't identify flashed in her eyes and she mumbled an unintelligible response.

"Pardon?"

"I'm alright, sir. May I leave now?"

He nodded, puzzled by her strange behaviour and she almost ran out of the room. Nathan called out to her when he realised that she had left her tea behind but it appeared that she didn't hear him for she continued to take brisk steps away from him.

* * *

It took him three months to persuade her to speak to him. Nathan exerted himself to no end to please Tanya. There was a friendly "Hello," each time she passed him in the hallways, accompanied by his most charming smile. He checked her Training Schedule and even attempted to persuade the Department Head to let him become one of her teachers. Unfortunately, even the most careless of Heads was unwilling to let an extremely experience Auror waste his time teaching when there were criminals on the loose. So he had to content himself with entering at least one of her classes each day in the role of hands-on superior, one which he had never essayed in the past. He had a few words for everyone in her batch but eyes only for her. She seemed uncomfortable under his gaze and blushed whenever he addressed her. The red stain across her cheeks only made her seem more irresistible than ever to Nathan. Never having handled rejection in his life, he took her discomfort as a sign of her modesty and mentally congratulated himself on his excellent choice.

The time he spent actually working shrunk to a bare minimum and once, he even snapped at the Head to finish his own work rather than handing it to him. It had done very well in the past, he had said, banging his fist against the startled man's desk, but would no longer serve in the future. He was the Asst. Head of the Department, but nowhere in the rulebook was there a statement telling him that this meant he had to handle all the Department's work by himself. He bitingly added that the Head was responsible for his lack of a social life and stalked out of the room, uncaring of the fact that half the Department had witnessed his encounter with the stunned Head through the open door of the latter's office.

And through all this, the grey eyes he had seen that day, three months and yet an eternity away, continued to haunt him. He embellished them with each new emotion he saw pass through Tanya's face, until they became silvery orbs of pure light that shone through his dreams. But there remained un-interpreted the look that she reserved just for him. The meaning of the spark that lit her eyes each time she saw him continued to elude him.

Nathan was tired of observing her from afar, watching her go about her day unaware of the effect she had had on his life. A part of his mind reminded him that she was still extremely young but this sensible advice was overshadowed by the intoxication of love seeping through him. For Nathan no longer had any doubt that the emotion he felt was love in its truest, purest form. Another part whispered insidiously that perhaps she had taken him in dislike. But he denied this with all his being and so succeeded, over the course of two months, in convincing himself that she too was in love with him since that magical meeting of their gazes. Nathan knew that Tanya was simply waiting for him to make the first move.

The next day he lingered by the tea-maker at the hour he knew from a chart he had pulled was her tea break. She paused when she saw him standing nearby. He gave her a friendly smile. Both of them looked over their shoulders in almost comical synchronization. Nathan turned to see who was standing behind him for Tanya looked almost nervous. Tanya looked back to see who was standing behind her. Seeing a handsome Trainee from her class there, she waved to him to join her. However, he declined and began an animated conversation with another girl standing next to him.

Nathan watched this interchange carefully. Jealousy was tearing him apart but above it was a panicky feeling of insecurity. He realised that this girl his life had come to revolve around had secrets; secrets locked deep within the recesses of her mind that he was not privy to.

But none of this showed on his face as he handed her a cup of tea and said, "Help yourself. I'll make another one since I have a longer tea break."

"Thank you, sir."

Tanya meekly accepted the cup he handed her and gulped the tea down quickly. She then consulted her watch and said, "I'm afraid it's time for me to go now, sir."

Nathan frowned, hating the sound of that word _sir_. Tanya lifted her eyes to meet his again and the same emotion flashed through their expressive depths. The one he couldn't identify try hard as he may.

So passed their third meeting in so many months.

It was a strange love story. Nathan grew more and more attached to her each day but never told her how he felt. He supposed that it would be an understood thing by now. After all, they had been in love so long, hadn't they? Surely by now Tanya knew how devoted he was to her.

His love for her consumed him, until there came a point six months after their first meeting, when she was all that he could think about. Nathan decided that it was time for him to take their relationship forward another step. In his mind, they had already shared their thoughts, emotions and feelings. They had had long, romantic walks by the moonlit river Thames and held hands in gardens. Tanya had shared her deepest thoughts with him and he had responded in kind. His mind told him that it had all happen exactly as it was supposed to happen. A small, cloudy part of his brain wondered whether the scenes were just a little too perfect, the moonlight illuminating her face in his memories too bright, but none of this mattered anymore to Nathan. After all, he was in love.

Then came that fateful day, when Tanya was sent on a small, simple job of the kind usually given to Trainee Aurors in their first few months of training. The assignment was simple enough. She was to tail a man suspected of selling magical artifacts illegally for a week and make a report of his activities. Nathan had done his best to keep her away from any harm but unfortunately, there was only so long that even he could manipulate the roster before someone noticed that Tanya Malfoy had received far less than her fair share of jobs.

As always, Nathan and Tanya met in his mind the morning she left for her latest assignment. In the real world, Tanya was in the washroom calming her nerves with splashes of cool water and Nathan was in his office but Nathan no longer inhabited that world. In his fantasy, they shared a passionate embrace before she left and she cried for the pain of being away from him.

But alas, the real world cannot be ignored without consequences and Nathan was violently shaken out of his misty dreams when Tanya's body was found in a sewer in Knockturn Alley a few days later. He was beyond enraged. His vision clouded with red and hands shook as he used all the power at his command to personally search every document pertaining to Tanya's mission. But his anger was never so great as to overpower him completely for Nathan understood that their love was too strong for anyone, even Death to separate them. He began to study the shadowy art of Necromancy but soon realised that it was a useless practice, for he was an intelligent man. Nathan disgustedly threw away the book he had purchased from a dealer in the Hog's Head after a few pages.

He pursued the case of her death with an inner resolve, determined to solve the mystery. But the body of the dealer Tanya had been following turned up in a Muggle garbage dump the day after hers was found. His associates were all petty thieves and it was highly unlikely that one of them was the murderer. The only remaining link was a mysterious cloaked figure whom a woman in Knockturn Alley claimed had been the man's last customer. However the woman refused to give a formal interview. She made a living selling something that looked suspiciously like human fingernails to Nathan, so it was no wonder that she didn't want her past investigated. But the sight of Nathan's galleons made her eyes widen greedily and his promise to keep Law Enforcement away from her won him her cooperation. After seeing nearly half the gold in his account dissipate into bottles of Firewhisky, Nathan finally got the answer he craved.

The buyer's name was Gellert Grindelwald and the object that the dealer had failed to deliver was the Resurrection Stone.

* * *

Nathan continued to observe Tom Riddle as the boy furiously scribbled in his diary. He felt himself growing restless at his post and comforted himself with his favorite mental image of a beautiful girl with flowing hair and gray eyes who smiled at him teasingly.

"Not much longer now, Tanya," he whispered, "The boy has the Stone."

He thought he detected a look of betrayal in her eyes and hurriedly added, "I never truly worked for Grindelwald, Tanya, you know I didn't! But if he leads me to the Resurrection Stone I can bring you back and defeat him with a single blow. By betraying him, I can rob him of the thing he desires most – the Stone …"

His voice trailed off as he closed his eyes and blissfully considered their moment of reunion.

_

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AN: The brilliant people who left their brilliant comments:

**ClaireReno, cntfnkofapennametheyareallgon, sweet-tang-honney, Ceralyn, strivengoddess, LynnZBomb, Hermitt, freak-4-God, kimgeer, TuesdayNovember, phay-nix and PersphoneTricked. **

_I love reviews. Seriously. I may not reply to every one of them but that does not mean I don't appreciate them. I especially like the reviews I've been getting for this story because most of them are so long :)_

_But I don't understand why I have over a 100 Alerts and a maximum of 12 reviews on a single chapter. Assuming even half the people who alert this story read it, couldn't they review as well? _

_If you have anything at all to say about this fanfic – good, bad or loony, tell me!_


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